Trauma 139 Results!

[Murdoc]

****

We are treated again this week to the interior of that familiar office, that office door of Skylar Marshall. For a few seconds, all is quiet save for the scratching of a pen against paper until suddenly ... the door swings open gently and “Mr. Showtime” Michael Wryght pokes his head in. The office seems deserted and just before Showtime leaves a familiar voice is heard from the high desk chair facing the opposite direction.

Skylar Marshall: Are you here to quit on me too?

Showtime is taken aback by the accusation, and realized that his isn’t wearing his varsity jacket, but holding it. He goes to speak but is cut off as the chair spins around.

Skylar Marshall: Well just leave it and get out of here.

Michael Wryght: I’m not here to quit Skylar, but I am here to try and fix this mess we are in.

Skylar’s bushy eyebrows raise in curiosity, and in surprise since the last time Showtime had entered this office Skylar needed a new desk. He motions Showtime to take a seat and Wryght is happy to accept it.

Michael Wryght: Listen Skylar, we aren’t finished yet, as long as the two of us show a united front. It doesn’t matter who walk out champion at Game Over as long as you don’t choose sides, and we beat Stormm. Our group started out perfectly until all this jack-assing around started between Kaard and me.

Skylar Marshall: Are you actually saying that this is partially your fault?

Michael Wryght: I wouldn’t go there. If you’ve noticed I haven’t once jumped your chosen boy, but he has come at me from behind a few times. Maybe the way I handled him at first was a bit condescending, but the sentiment was from the right place. Now because of the way you and Kaard were acting we’ve lost Ford in the group…

Skylar Marshall: And it looks like Kaard has quit.

Michael Wryght: Wouldn’t be the first time, now would it?

Skylar Marshall: You seem to know all the problems, but do you have any solutions?

Michael Wryght: Well obviously it starts with us. Like I said we need to be united. We can show everyone that we are on the same page. Maybe tonight you can make the declaration, after Kaard beats Stormm that Marshall’s Law is nothing without our unity. That together, we can bring Pure Class Wrestling to its’ pinnacle. I mean, that’s what this has been all about right?

Marshall ponders these words for a few moments, more that Showtime would like but then he responds.

Skylar Marshall: You are absolutely correct Michael. I will declare my allegiance to Marshall’s Law and what it really means. I’m sure after everything is all said and done, that there will be a new found unity within our group.

Both men shake hands and Showtime exits the office, as the door shuts Skylar picks up his telephone and the scene cuts to black.

Match One

Singles Match

Arica ‘Trouble’ Lewitt vs. Sterling Werner

Referee: Marcos Cruz

As “I Knew You Were Trouble” begins to play over the speakers the lights cut out completely, leaving the arena cloaked in darkness. As the distinctive voice of Taylor Swift sings “Trouble, trouble, trouble” a spotlight flashes on Trouble each time her name is sung and the crowd can barely make out Trouble standing in the middle of the ramp as the spotlight flashes. Eventually the lights come back on, and she is standing in the middle of the ring ... awaiting for them to come out.

She climbs a turnbuckle to either wait for her opponent .... she HAS been known to unleash an aerial attack to an entering opponent or one standing in the ring and she maaaaay just do that here tonight as the lights suddenly black out in the Arena as strobes hit simultaneously with "YOU'VE GOT BLOOD ON YOUR HAAANNNDDSSSS!!....", jolting the un-expecting crowd from their seats as the lyrics to "Hollow King" come alive through the sound system.

The majority of the crowd hyped up when they see their newest favorite PCW star, Sterling Werner, quickly ascend through the stage floor.

Only his shadowy figure can be seen until he steps forward as the Arena lights return to their original state, keeping the strobes in-sync with the theme song. Sterling makes a straight shot for the ring, looking to be all about business as his fans reach out to touch him if they can. He glances from side to side into the audience as he walks down the ramp, then focuses his attention to the ring.

He jumps onto the ring apron on one knee, pulling himself up with assistance from the ropes. He looks over his shoulder before getting inside. The Referee checks him down and he's good to go as his theme music dies down.

DING DING DING!

Marcos Cruz calls for the bell in our opening match of Trauma 139 and Arica Lewitt, surprisingly, drops down from the turnbuckle and traipses across the ring towards her opponent ... giggling like a school girl. A bit taken aback, Werner looks confused for a moment, but Lewitt motions to him that she has something to tell him. Werner, intrigued, allows Trouble to get a little closer, and leans forward just a bit.

Just as she flashes him a bright eyed smile and bats her lashes... Sterling smiles a big wide grin... and Arica drives a stiff right leg between his uprights.

Cruz warns Lewitt about the low-blow, and Lewitt promises not to do it again with a wry smile and an innocent, pleading look. She says something to Sterling, and then grabs him by the neck, rolling him over and planting him with a stiff spinning neckbreaker to really get this match started with some authority.

Sterling gets to his feet fairly quickly, but find himself face first on the canvas in no time as Lewitt lands a huge standing drop kick as he turns to face her. Trouble, really fired up early on in this match, stands over Werner lining him up, and wraps his arm around her calf, rolling him over and onto his neck and shoulder with a modified Leg-Wrap Hammer Lock. As Marco Cruz checks on him, Sterling flails his legs into the air, and finally gets the leverage he needs to roll back over, and shift the weight back onto Arica Lewitt.

A careful spin under, and he is standing over her with her legs locked around his arm. Werner lifts her into the air, his obvious size advantage here working in his favor, and slams her not once, not twice, but three times hard on the mat before he finally knocks her free of her leg lock and drives a harsh elbow straight down into her face before hooking the far leg and going for the pin.

One... Two... Thre...

Trouble kicks out at two and a half, and Sterling Werner climbs to his feet followed by Arica Lewitt. The two lock up in a collar and elbow tie-up, and Werner easily backs her up against the ropes. He presses upwards on her chin, forcing her to lean way over the top rope, and then backs up just a step, shooting forward with a massive knee to the midsection of Lewitt that doubles her over.

Werner rushes the opposite rope and launches his body across the ring at Arica as she rushes him from the other rope. Lewitt ducks a short arm lariat and the two rocket towards each other once more. Werner goes for a standing leg lariat, but Lewitt again ducks it and bounces off the ropes. Werner spins and bends for a big back body drop. Lewitt sees it coming and sails over his back going for a sunset flip, but she just doesn't have the strength to pull him over, and Werner drops a big right hand with no body home!

Marco Cruz warns Sterling about the closed fist, but he brushes it off without a thought, and spins to find Arica Lewitt, but she finds him first.

Lewitt bounds off of the far rope and connects with a huge missile drop kick to Werner's knee sending him crashing to the mat once more. Lewitt rushes the rope, leaps up to the middle rope and launches through the air hitting Werner with a springboard senton before hooking the leg and going for the pin herself.

One... Two … Thr...

And Werner kicks out!

Lewitt hops to her feet, and leaps to the top rope in the corner, turning just as Sterling makes it to his feet, and uncoils. Trouble flies through the air spinning Sterling Werner over himself with a top rope Hurricanrana that launches him across the ring. Arica Lewitt wastes no time with the downed man either, and goes for a Standing Leg Lock to keep the bigger man on the mat even longer. Werner, sensing his danger, spins in her grip, and plants his free foot on her ass and shoves her face first through the ropes and into the corner post.

Lewitt's ability to wriggle free and get away from Werner's offense here is beginning to frustrate him a bit, and it's got Sterling fired up now. Smelling victory, Werner stalks Trouble as she tries to wriggle free of the ropes, but he grabs her ankle first, and yanks her out of the corner hard, planting her face first on the mat.

Werner kicks her in the midsection as she flips over onto her back and he goes for the pin.

One... Two...

and Lewitt kicks out at just two.

Werner, looking to end the match quickly, holds Lewitt down with an elbow across her neck, and lifts up on his toes before driving his knee into her exposed side. He lifts up on his toes again, still holding her down by the neck with his forearm and elbow, and once more drives a hard knee into her ribs. Lewitt, desperate to get free, brings her legs up and locks them around Werner's head. Spinning her body beneath him with her new found leverage, she sends him crashing to the mat with his head locked tightly in a leg head scissor.

Lewitt pushes her slight frame off of the mat with her arms and uses her whole body to put pressure on Sterling's head and neck, but it just isn't enough. Lewitt throws her body weight towards the top rope driving Werner back against the ropes, and she rides him right over the top to the outside. Both competitors take a bad fall to the floor on the outside, and are laid out as Marco Cruz starts his ten count...

One...

Two...

Three...

Four...

Lewitt starts to stir first, but she is dazed and wobbly after the spill to the outside.

Five...

Six...

Werner starts to come to then, but Arica sees him start to come around and throws herself at him with a huge right hand. He collapses back to the floor on the outside with Lewitt sprawled over him as Marcos continues his count.

Seven...

Eight...

Werner tries to force his way up from the floor, but Arica grabs his head in both hands and drives her knee into the side of his head sending him flopping back to the floor as she collapses next to him.

Nine...

Ten!

Cruz calls for the bell in this double count out.

Winner: Draw via double-countout

Coming to a Town Near You

An uppity shrill voice paints the not-so-pretty picture for you:

<The young child is crying, oh so sad. We don't like that here at our Carnival.>

Whispers in secret with hand covering the side of the mouth.

<It creates poor publicity, and there is simply zero tolerance for any negativity upon these fairgrounds. There are enough negative people moping about in the outside world as it is, we don't want it to become contagious. So what do you say we cheer the little fellow up huh!?>

There he is ... over there sitting on the bench holding his head in his hands, vulnerable & innocent in his own right, elbows resting on the knees.

<I think I'll just mosey on over. >

Clip, Clap, Clip, Clap, Clip, Clap. The polished black shoes make that distinguished sound as he does the mosey. And CLACK! .. The bottom end of the black cane strikes against the built-in brick of the ground in front of the boy, startling him quite clearly. Oops! Not a good way to start things off. Scrrraaaape with the cane along the brick stone. He can only be about 7, maybe even 8 yrs old.

Why are you troubled here at my Carnival, is this place not good enough for you?

"No sir, it's just my Mommy and Daddy said they would be back to get me. That was a long long time ago. Can you help me find them please?

Do I look like a babysitter to you? No! I am the ringmaster, the master of my domain. I am sure your parents purposely left you here, because you, just like the other children like you ... are nothing more but a mistake. Take it from me: Mr. Tickles. You are much better off without them, you see.  They chose to abandon you for whatever reason. So why do you want Parents who don't like you?

"My Mommy and Daddy are nice, they wouldn't leave me like that."

Oh! but they would, and they did. You see ... you are now a part of our lost and found!

<Psst! we have his Parents hostage, they're being stripped and whipped like the animals that they are, even as we speak. -wink!->

"They just went to get some food, and I think you're a mean clown guy.  You're scaring me!"

<There go the waterworks again, for being such a clown I don't have the ability to turn that frown upside-down apparently. Then again, I'm evil and corrupt inside, so I must be doing something right. Let me attempt another approach.>


A red balloon I have here, let's make a fun & twisty shape.

The balloon is making that wonderful familar latex rubbing noise as I manipulate this into a ... woo-lah! What else, but a dragon? Now let's force this upon his head to stop him from causing a scene and receiving unwanted attention. After all, it's all he wants.

"Plea-heeze! Help me find my Mom and Dad. It's almost dark time already."

<Look closely at the corners of my mouth, do you see them spreading into a sneaky devilish form? ... Darkness is always upon us, it's just how we look at it that matters.>

"You're right, how rude of me to not help you from the very beginning. That's not what friends do. Come on, I will go buy you some Cotton Candy and Popcorn, then we'll go look for your Parents.  I think I saw them not to far from here, now that I think of it. What do you say, pal?" The sarcasm dripping from his lips, he leans in close as he says this.

"Ya.. ya..you promise? I'm not allowed to go with strangers."

“I'm not a stranger! I'm Mr. Tickles, for crying out loud. I made you a balloon ... remember?”

“Well...okay then, but we have to get Pop too, then find my parents fast. Okay!?”

"SURE.  Whatever you say. You got it."

<There's an eye-roller for you.>

Here we go now, it's that easy as we begin walking away from the bench together. I hand him off to one of my freakshow friends, whatever becomes of him is beyond me.


<It's the base of our don't ask, don't tell policy. And now you know what happens to those who resist against our will.

I wanted to provide a little snippet of what to expect when you arrive.

If you are unable to make the drive, don’t worry. We will GLADLY come to you .... >

[Murdoc]

The camera pans in on the catering table, where the New Breed are piling their plates to the ceiling with culinary snacks. Sebastian has the smaller of the plates, filled with lighter fare and bite sized noshes. Cable, on the other hand, carries no shame in his ravenous appetite, a little of everything stacked unevenly making his platter look like something out of a Dr. Seuss book. Between nibbles, they carry on their conversation just out of shot of the camera. Then Cable comes upon a plate full of various grilled cheese sandwiches. He tilts his masked head to the size puzzled.

Cable: What are these grilled cheeses doing here? Did someone piss off the catering chefs again?

Sebastian: Didn’t you hear? Nathan Saniti is back.

Cable: So?

Sebastian: Well, he LOVES grilled cheese sandwiches. Probably explains the cream of Spam soup too.

Cable looks completely dumbfounded.

Cable: Cream of SPAM soup? Seriously?

Sebastian shrugs his shoulders and turns to find someplace to enjoy his food.

CRASH!

An uncomfortable moment passes as the camera catches up to see SSP now wearing an unflattering mix of food decorating his blue sequined robe. The camera scans a bit further to reveal who he had a collision with. A disgusted look is etched on the face of none other than Nathan Saniti. The crowd jeers loudly, mixed with a bit of laughter at the accident. Nathan slowly raises his cane, using the point of it to back Sebastian slowly away by the shoulder. A light giggle echoes from around Saniti’s ankles. Tarrant quickly covers his mouth, a hint of fear in his eyes. Saniti’s entire body shivers from the sound. He glares down at his furry companion, then slowly returns his baleful gaze to SSP.

Saniti: UNCOUTH RUFFIAN!

Sebastian brushes himself off with a mortified look on his face. He gets the mainstay of it off of himself and reaches to dust off Saniti. Saniti smacks the hand away with his cane.

Sebastian: I’m so sorry! Are you okay, Nathan?

Saniti: Of course I’m not alright, you clumsy oaf! And why is my name crossing your lips? Who ARE you?

Sebastian looks taken aback by Saniti’s failed memory.

Sebastian: You don’t remember me? You took a bullet for me!

Now it’s Saniti’s turn to look confounded.

Sebastian: Sebastian Saint Paul? You got a bullet in your…

Saniti: Posterior! Of course.

Once again, Saniti uses his cane to shove SSP aside so he can stroll past. He glosses over the table with disgust in his eyes.

Saniti: Such pitiful fare.

Saniti sighs and spins slowly on SSP and Cable.

Saniti: BUT… I suppose two Neanderthals like yourselves find it suitable. Hopefully the next time we meet either you will mind where you are going or I will remove myself from the path of the next bullet aimed at you.

Saniti turns and strolls nonchalantly away, leaving even Cable speechless. Tarrant hops along a step or two behind him, another giggle escaping his mouth. The sound once again seems to deal Saniti brief fits. This time, Saniti bends down within an inch of his furry friend’s face. He steams as he speaks.

Saniti: Do you find something humorous?

Tarrant looks nervously at Saniti, shuffling his feet. The cigar drops from his mouth, landing cherry down on the floor.

^{Tarrant: Just… The whole thing… Pretty funny… Don’t you think?}

The circles around Saniti’s eyes grow black with anger, but then he takes a deep breath. He stands back up slowly, the color returning to his face. Tarrant gulps and exhales audibly in relief. A small, unsettling smile parts Saniti’s lips. At the end of the hallway, he spies Q rounding the corner. He peers down to his companion.

Saniti: I didn’t know you could fly.

Shock overcomes Tarrant’s face.

_{Tarrant: Fly? I can’t…}

Saniti snatches the rabbit up by the waistcoat and hurls him headlong down the corridor, his high-pitched scream echoing vibrantly. Q looks up just in time to get a face full of rabbit. The blow, though painful for both involved, deals very little damage to either. Tarrant flops down, only to be caught up by an astonished Q. Saniti saunters down the hallway, his cane in his left hand, and a satisfied smirk on his face. He attempts to walk past Q, but Q steps into his path.

Q: What is WRONG with you, Nathan? First you attack me, and then you hurt your best friend. What the blazes has gotten into you?

Saniti: Clarity, my dear Mr. Q. Nothing more, nothing less. I have grown weary of being encumbered by supposed friendships that lead nowhere. Now kindly remove yourself from my path or we shall have a repeat of what transpired at the Iceys.

Q reluctantly steps aside, still holding the quivering Tarrant in his arms. Tarrant buries his face in Q’s body in fear as Saniti passes. Saniti sneers at both of them and disappears down the hallway.

Match Two

Tag Team Match with the Genesis Championship on the line; Genesis Rules

Ace Anderson and Q (Genesis Champion) vs. The Flying Freebooters

(The Competitor who scores the pinfall becomes the Genesis Championship)

Referee: Roberto Garcia

The lights of the arena slowly begin to dim, before going altogether dark. Hollow by Alice In Chains hits as the lights begin to flicker and the Freebooters enter, both just standing there, posing. The crowd booing does not faze them, as they motion for the crowd to get louder as they soak in the attention. As they make their way down the ramp and towards the ring, sometimes they will interact with the fans, mouthing off to them.

Both men climb up the stairs, and climb to the turnbuckle's horizontally across from each other. They stare them down, beckoning their opponents for the evening to come from the back, taunting. Then, as the music is about to fade, both perform a backflip into the ring as the music finally dies out.

"Pain Redefined" plays, sounding out and competing with the crowd as stage lights flicker with the first echoing notes. The light drumline begins, and the lights pick up speed. With each exclamation by the vocalist three short bursts of red and blue fireworks rocket toward the ceiling. On cue with the lyrics, Ace Anderson erupts from behind the curtain, arms raised.

He takes a few seconds to survey the sound and the scene, staring at his opponent if introduced second. He walks to the ring with his long strides, looking determined and mentally preparing himself. He reaches the ring, stops, looks left and then right at the crowd and instead of jumping onto the apron ... points to the entrance way.

WHOOSH. KSSSSSSSSH. The doors open and ...

... out rolls the FUNK. Q steps out as the music starts, the crowd getting into that fresh, tasty jam. He's smiling and bobbing his head as he walks to the ring in step with the beat. Slapping hands. Kissing babies. Showing off signs dedicated to him, or anything he thinks is creative or noteworthy. The lights pulsate in multi-colored hues. the music kicking into full swing as he finishes his walk to the ringside area. Ending up alongside Ace, the two men nod at each other and dive into the ring where all four men begin brawling to start things off.

DING DING DING!

The match starts off in earnest with High Tide and Q squaring off on one side, Wasp and Ace duking it out on the other. Q managing to hurl Tide out of the ring, he follows right behind him ... leaving Ace and Wasp as the legal men. Q and Tide finally separating and moving to their respective corners, the focus is now fully on Ace and Wasp. Ace has the upper hand on Wasp as he pushes him back into the nearest set of ropes. Irish Whip and Ace is right on his heels the entire way across the ring as a powerful shoulder block forces Wasp through the ropes and out onto the apron.

As he regains his footing, Ace lands several stiff shots before hooking the arm and neck of Wasp. Lifting him up into a textbook vetical suplex position, Wasp takes advantage of the awkward angle of the out-to-in suplex and manages to use the momentum to free himself from the hold, landing on his feet behind Ace. Several knees to the kidney later, Wasp has Ace leaned against the ropes and struggling to breathe.

Taking off at full speed towards the ropes, he bounces and returns ... hurling himself OVER the top rope and catching Ace’s head on the way down ... landing a high-velocity top rope neck choke. Ace bouncing backwards into the ring clutching at his esophagus and neck, Wasp slides in quickly to make the pinfall attempt. Only a 1 count, Ace powers his way out and forces Wasp back a few feet from the point of pinfall attempt. Wasp laying in the boots as Ace wills himself to his knees and then his feet, Martins’ boots taking a chunk out of Ace’s armor with each successful connect.

Ace pushing Wasp away, Wasp rushes back in to press the attack but is met with a huge boot to the chest that drops Wasp clean. Ace dropping to a knee, still winded and trying to work the kink out of his breathing tube ... Wasp is doing his best to catch his breath although the sudden bump of adrenaline is helping in that regards. The two on even footing again, Ace goes to attack and Wasp ...

... tags in High Tide.

Tide looking for a second at Wasp, then at Ace .... he steps into the ring and begins to jaw with Wasp before shoving him back towards Ace. The crowd letting out a prolonged ‘OoooooOOOOOOOH!’ Tide rears back at Wasp and ... MISSES! Tide and now Wasp as well connect with a huge double haymaker on Ace. Ace dropping to the mat from the surprise attack, Wasp shakes his head and chuckles as he retreats to the apron.

Tide rushes Ace and with lightning quick attacks, puts Ace back on the defensive. Forcing Ace into a neutral corner with his blitzkrieg, Tide ascends the turnbuckle and begins raining blows down onto his much larger opponent. Ace pushes him off at the seven mark, but Tide wades right back in with shots to the body. Ace throws a haymaker but whiffs over Tide who catches Ace with a knee to the ribs. It seems, though highly recommended AGAINST, that the Freebooters have chosen to isolate Ace Anderson ... the larger and therefore more vulnerable to the fast-paced and lightning-imbued offense.

Q so far a non-factor in this match, he’s cheering Ace on ... hoping to will him into a more advantageous position. Namely, tagging him in to help out. Ace, however, is being pummeled by High Tide. The referee should have stopped this but .... he’s nowhere to be found! Garcia is admonishing Wasp for attempting to enter the ring. Q looks on and ... slips into the ring! Grabbing Tide by the wrist, he flips Tide over him in a reverse hip throw. The referee hearing the sound, he turns to find Q breaking the rules!

The referee ushering Q out, Wasp jumps in and the Freebooters begin double-teaming Ace. By the time Roberto has turned to face the action once again, Wasp is back out on the outside and Tide has Ace beaten prone to the mat. Dragging Ace to the center of the ring, Tide drops for the cover.

1 ...

2 ...

... SHOVE! Q dives in and pushes Tide off of Ace, effectively breaking up the pinfall attempt. Q leaving of his own volition this time, the referee turns in time to see Ace catch a rushing High Tide with a huge spinebuster. Both men prone on the mat, the crowd is on their feet in chanting for Ace and Q. As Ace slowly begins to crawl towards his partner, Tide is moving just a little bit faster and tags Wasp in. Ace almost there ... ALMOST ...

... NO! Wasp grabbing hold of Ace’s right leg, Ace hops and hobbles to his feet .... well, FOOT ... and swings wildly at Wasp who makes sure to keep his distance. Ace lets his momentum carry him as he falls to the mat, reaching out and tagging in the Genesis Champion! Q hopping onto the top turnbuckle, he leaps off of the top rope with great height as Tide rushes over to help Wasp with the fresh superstar. Q leaping well over the Freebooters, he lands on the mat in a perfect roll thru and ends up in the opposite corner.

Wasp and Tide rushing the cornered Champion, Wasp is the FIRST to miss as he dives shoulder first at the cornerpost ... Q kicking up to land laying across the top turnbuckle. Tide is there to attempt an Avalanche Splash, but misses THAT as well as Q forces himself off of the ropes with a backwards somersault to land on the apron near the corner. Both Freebooters staggering back, Q slips in Quickly and bounces off the ropes in a blur. Even the fast-paced Freebooters can’t keep up, not even facing the Single Letter Superstar as he drops to the mat and literally LOG ROLLS into the their legs ... tripping them and forcing them awkwardly to the mat.

Q pops up and raises his hands to the crowd, who respond in kind with a high level round of cheers.

The first person to make it to his feet is Tide, who Ace comes out of NOWHERE to force him out of the ring. Ace and Tide tumbling to the outside, Q and Wasp are going mano-y-mano. Q taking every punch that Tide can offer, he catches the last one out of nowhere in his BARE HAND and smiles before twisting his body ... popping his hips ... and FLINGING Tide across the ring into the corner. As Tide regains his vertical stance, Q is there ... the soles of his feet on Tide’s upper thighs and hands clasped behind his neck.

Leaning back, Q throws Tide over him in a dazzling monkey flip! Tide writhing on the mat in pain, he finds himself underneath Q in a pinfall attempt.

Unfortunately for Q ... Jule Martins is the legal participant. In his physics’-demolishing offense, Q has managed to become turned around and for his efforts ... is unceremoniously stomped out by Wasp. Tide scurrying to his corner to try and catch his breath, Wasp takes over the battle duties and begins to lay into Q. Q, however, is the fresher of the two and slowly begins to chip away at Wasp’s advantage until both men are on even footing yet again ... and soon, Q is on top of the action yet again. He’s on a roll and he will NOT be denied!

Well, that is until Wasp grabs Q by the hair and jerks him violently to the mat.

Dropping an elbow or two, Wasp is back in the driver’s seat and the crowd is NOT pleased about it. The wily veteran’s instincts never ceasing to bring results, he picks Q up from the mat by the hair and slams him back down. A second time. Same result. A third time ... not Quite. Q grabbing Wasp by the wrists, he twists his hands and breaks Wasp’s hold on his hair. Still holding his wrists, Q drops to his knees and pulls Wasp down with him. Both men on their knees now, Q pulls Wasp in and, in an INCREDIBLE show of flexibility, lands a low angle Northern Lights Suplex. The low trajectory landing Wasp at a dangerously sharp angle, he’s held down to the mat EVEN HARDER than a normal one as the pin is counted.

1 ...

2 ...

...three-NO!

Q standing to his feet momentarily, he drops to a knee and begins to move back towards Ace. Ace is ready and BOOM! The tag is made. Ace comes in and picks Wasp up with all the strength he can muster and hurls the man back into ... his own corner. High Tide slapping Wasp’s back, he jumps in over the top rope ... but is caught on the way in with a vicious lariat that leaves him laying on top of Wasp. A few steps back aaaaaaaand ... Avalanche Splash! Wasp falls out of the ring through the ropes and Tide is left to stagger into Ace who is waiting with a boot to the gut.

Powerbomb ...

... no, wait ... could it be the Exemplifier?! He’s got him up, WAAAAAAY up there ... but in a twist of the wrist, Tide is brought down to the mat yet again in a standing position. Ace reaches back to Q who darts in and across ... OFT! The Champion looks at Ace, Ace looks at the Champion with a nod of the head. The two are in agreement and Q drops on top of Tide for the pinfall attempt.

1 ...

2 ...

.... 3!

Winner: Ace Anderson & Q; Q pins High Tide

'Supersoulfighter’ plays over the P.A. system and Q is handed his Genesis belt by the referee. Q and Ace shake hands in the middle of the ring, a well-forged partnership coming to fruition and a very well-placed trust on the part of Ace Anderson to choose Q as one of the lumberjacks for his upcoming pay-per-view match. The Freebooters slowly coming to, with Wasp on the outside and Tide crawling off towards the corner, Ace and Q celebrate in the center of the ring as we go to ...

.... lights out. The crowd is submerged into abysmal darkness. That thick, heavy darkness that seems to swallow up every last bit of light in the arena. Including the brightness that is the Genesis Champion. (He’s mighty bright, don’t you know.) The crowd is hushed as the screen flickers to life. Old school news reel counting down.

4.

3.

2.

BEEP!

The footage begins to play. Emaciated forms. Men, women and children working in deplorable conditions. Carrying buckets of water ... only the barest of clothes adorning their bodies.

The principals of “purity and pollution” dictate what Dalits are and are not allowed to do; where they are and are not allowed to live, go, or sit; who they can and cannot give water to, eat with, or marry; extending into the minutia of all aspects of daily life.

The crowd is treated to horrific images of impoverished and otherwise forgotten people doing things that any person sitting in the arena or at home could scarcely imagine doing of their own volition.

The word Dalit—literally translating to “oppressed” or “broken”—is generally used to refer to those belonging to castes outside the fourfold Hindu Varna system.

The crowd is treated to the sight of men along a long stretch of roadway, digging ... setting ... toiling under the hot sun to create a path from a small village into the bigger city.

Dalit remain the most vulnerable, marginalized and brutalized community in the country. Perhaps the world. 

They are US. And WE, like they ....

... are UNTOUCHABLE.

With the video fading into the oblivion from whence it came, the lights are brought to full blinding force yet again. And in the center of the ring ... a horrific tableau of pain and suffering. Four once healthy and fit men are left bound to the ropes, each man occupying a space all his own. The ropes tied tightly around their shoulders and arms, their heads and bodies are limp.

Ace Anderson.

Q.

High Tide and The Flying Freebooters.

All four men left hanging like a warning message in the air, the feed cuts quickly away from these downed and soon-to-be-noticed bleeding individuals as EMT’s and security hit the ring en masse ... tending to the wounded and injured men. It is apparent that more serious attention is needed as the screen cuts to a quick advertisement for Pure Class Wrestling’s involvement in the The Color Run featuring PCW Superstars Q and Kelli Starr! The official website can be found here:

thecolorrun.com/about/

Match Three

Non-Title Singles Match

Gabriel ‘The Archangel’ Cross vs. Tyrone ‘Crazy Boy’ Smith (N.A. Champion)

Referee: Steve Shaw

Gabriel Cross emerges from the back as 'Power' by Kanye West sounds over the P.A. system. He heads to the ring wearing a black and silver knee knee length coat with the hood up. He throws the hood back while on stage and once in the ring he strips the coat off and throws it to the side, waiting for Tyrone Smith. Cross stretches out on the ropes, preparing himself for the match. After first stretching his arms and then his legs he hops in place, playing to the crowd as they react with mixed emotions.

The lights flicker and fade out as the pulsating beats of Dope Star Inc's "10000 Watts of Artificial Pleasure" pops on the PA system. Smoke fills the arena as a figure stands in the middle of it. All the sudden, Crazy Boy comes out of the smoke and pumps a fist in the air. He walks down the entryway and climbs the ropes of the ring. He bounces around the ropes a few times, pumps his fist in the air one last time before turning his attention Gabriel Cross.

Steve Shaw completes his pre-match preamble, then calls for the bell and the start of the match.

DING DING DING!

The two competitors begin the match circling and measuring their plan of attack. With similar styles as both are technicians, the difference may be found in Gabriel Cross's tactical striking or Crazy Boy's unorthodox high-octane offense. Not wanting to turn up their cards just yet, they opt for a collar-elbow tie-up and begin jockeying for position.

Gabriel Cross seems the first to gain the advantage as he secures a top wristlock. Stepping forward, he gets one foot planted behind Crazy Boy's boot and begins forcing him to the mat. Crazy Boy stands firm, however, bending backward in a bridge until his head touches the mat. Using Cross's leverage to his advantage he pulls where their legs are hooked, threatening to knock Cross off-balance. Cross's only response is to pull back and pull Crazy Boy up out of the bridge. Once vertical Crazy Boy forces the issue, shifting the wristlock and this time driving Gabriel Cross matward into a bridge of his own. Crazy Boy sees an opening the moment Cross's head touches the canvas, leaping into the air and landing hard on his gut in a sloppy senton.

Crazy Boy remains seated on his chest, Steve Shaw looks to make a count, but Gabriel Cross bucks and spins before he can even slap one. With Crazy Boy mounted on his back, Gabriel Cross struggles to his feet. Crazy Boy responds by locking in a headlock, looking for further control. Gabriel Cross rejects that premise, charging backward until Crazy Boy collides with the turnbuckles in the corner. The impact forces a break and gives Cross a chance to turn and snap a kick across Crazy Boy's midsection.

Gabriel Cross backs off to catch his breath, then turns and charges at the Crazy One. Crazy Boy lifts both boots and sticks them into Cross's lips, sending him reeling across the canvas. Cross turns, not charging this time, but Crazy Boy has already mounted the second ropes, leaping forward with a cross body block that catches Gabriel Cross completely by surprise. Crazy Boy pops up and the crowd pops with him, and all of a sudden Crazy Boy is on the offensive! Cross tries to stand but Tyrone Smith knocks him down with a dropkick. And another! Crazy Boy hits the ropes for a running dropkick as Cross stands, but Cross flapjacks him!

Cross pounces, snapping a side headlock on the downed Smith. He takes a moment to compose himself, squeezing the air from Crazy Boy's lungs. He works them to their feet and then drops Crazy Boy with a beautiful pumphandle slam! Cross covers, but Crazy Boy kicks out just before two. Cross pops to his feet, levelling kicks at Crazy Boy who tries to do the same. Smith manages to catch a kick from Cross on his way up, dragging him down to the canvas and hooking a grapevine on the leg. Cross battles back with kicks from his free leg, missing once, twice, before finally clipping Crazy Boy on the chin. Crazy Boy releases the hold and rolls backward, and Cross does the same. They reach their feet at the same time, charge, and both men go down as they land synchronized lariats!

Both men are flat on their backs and breathing heavy in front of a very hot crowd in Pure Class Arena. Struggling to find their feet, Crazy Boy is the first to stand and he brawls Cross backward into a corner. He lands two hard elbow strikes before Cross grabs him around the collar, switches their position, and lands two hard elbows of his own. Cross continues his stiff assault on Tyrone Smith, with square punches and hard kicks to his midsection.

Quickly capitalizing, Cross hooks a clinch and uses the advantage to drag Crazy Boy toward the center of the ring. While he's hauling he's launching targeted shots at the Crazy One's midsection, looking to keep him under control. Smith is doing all he can to block the assault, and he's faring well considering. While Cross is able to connect on the body shots, Smith is properly protecting his face and keeping himself far away from dreamland.

But wait!!

Suddenly Tyrone Smith shoots his hands upward and through, breaking the clinch long enough to slap on the Crazy Nerve Hold!! There's fire in Tyrone Smith's eyes and he's pinching an artery on Cross's neck with an iron grip. The pain on Cross's face is obvious, and it's hard for him to fight through it. He tries to back off to create some distance, but Smith isn't letting go. Cross steps back and sticks a couple of sweeping kicks into the gut of Tyrone Smith. Smith still holds on, but a final kick breaks the painful maneuver.

Cross files in from a low vantage, grabbing Crazy Boy around the thighs. He lifts him high, whirling around, spinning spinebuster! The impact resonates throughout the arena and the crowd can hardly contain themselves. Rather than going for a pinfall here, Cross uses a facelock to bring Tyrone Smith to his feet. Cross whips him into the corner, following it up with a high knee strike! Smith stumbles out as Cross hops the ropes, landing on the apron, calling for his springboard forearm.

It connects! Cross covers!

1...

...

2...

...

Kickout by Crazy Boy! Aware of Tyrone Smith's resilience, Cross isn't surprised. Instead he lifts Crazy Boy up only to put him back down immediately with a scoop slam. With Crazy Boy lined up, Gabriel Cross bounces off the second rope for the Fall From Grace!

Crazy Boy reacts by tucking his knees! Cross's midsection lands flush against Crazy Boy's shinbones, his springboard moonsault having backfired. The Archangel absorbs the impact, rolling away from Tyrone Smith and clutching at his sternum. A burst of CRAZY adrenaline and Tyrone Smith is on his feet. A scissor kick rocks Cross where he stands, sending him into the ropes. He ricochets into a one armed DDT! Cross is down, and Crazy Boy has fired his final cylinders. The surge of strength takes him to the top. He waits... waits... waits...

Crazy Drop!! A huge missile dropkick sends Cross flying across the ring. Tyrone Smith follows, covers...

1...

...

2...

...

...

Gabriel Cross kicks out!!

This drives Crazy Boy, well, crazy. He was certain he had Cross put away, and so he looks to finish him off for good. He hoists him up and calls for the Crazy Slam! With the Faithful in a frenzy Tyrone Smith lifts Gabriel Cross into a vertical suplex position. In an amazing display of strength he holds him for a few seconds, taking a few steps and lining him up for the spinning slam.

Cross counters!!

Gabriel Cross struggles and gets free, falling to his feet at Crazy Boy's back. A stiff elbow to the back of Smith's head...

Small package by Cross!

1...

...

2...

...

Smith is struggling...

...

3!!

Crazy Boy kicks out a split second after Steve Shaw counts the fall. He calls for the bell. 'Power' plays and Cross gets out of dodge, sliding under the ropes with a satisfied grin on his face. Tyrone Smith is in the ring arguing with Steve Shaw, but there's nothing to be done.

Winner: Gabriel Cross via Pinfall

Marshall Won’t Be Crossed ...

We follow Gabriel Cross to the back after his match with the North American champion, Tyrone Smith. He’s looking pretty pleased with his victory, definitely glad to be considered in the running for a shot at the title on the upcoming pay-per-view. Wiping the sweat from his brow, he turns his gaze upwards and stops dead in his tracks as he comes face to face with none other than .... THE BOSS.

Skylar Marshall, not Springsteen.

Cross eyes the man carefully, watching his movements ... expecting some sort of shenaniganry from the leader of Marshall’s Law. Fully seeing a surprise ambush for some reason or another, he finds himself quite surprised when Skylar extends his hand towards the man. Cross is unsure but .... seeing as how nothing has happened yet ... accepts the handshake with great hesitation.

‘Mr. Cross, FINE work out there tonight. Fine work, indeed. Looks like you are a shoo-in to get your championship back at the pay-per-view. If I were a betting man that is.’ Skylar smiles and nods his head, Cross doing nothing but nodding his head in semi-agreement. ‘I’m not going to beat around the bush, Gabriel; time is running dangerously low and I have a proposition for you.’

The handshake is ended and Gabriel pulls his hand back with great relief. As surprising as the lack of an attack is, even MORE startling is what he pulls back from the handshake. Looking at it, he looks back up to Skylar and tilts his head in some confusion. ‘That’s yours, Mr. Cross. But if we are going to discuss TERMS, then I’m going to HAVE to insist we do so AWAY from the eyes and ears of the Pure Class community ...’, stated as he stares directly at the cameraman. ‘ .... and where we can speak more freely.’

‘My office, five minutes. Don’t keep me waiting ... I’m sure I can find someone else willing to do it for HALF. It just so happens you’ve impressed me lately.’

Skylar turns and begins to head deeper into the backstage area of the building, leaving Gabriel to watch after him ... alternating glances between his hand (which is now closed to hide whatever may be in it) and the retreating Head Honcho as we head to our next commercial break.

[Murdoc]

Match Four

Singles Match

Kelli Starr vs. Andy D

Referee: Manny Cruz

As the rapid harpsichord music opening Emilie Autumn’s “Syringe" sounds over the PCW loudspeakers, all the arena lights go out save for delicately strobing green lights at the stage area. Increasing in tempo with the music, they light up a single female figure standing at the top of the ramp. With the heavy pulse of the bass kicking in, multicolored lights begin to flicker and strobe in a rainbow of chaos as Dollface makes her energetic way to the ring. Slapping hands, dispensing hugs, she takes her time interacting with the fans en route to her match. She tugs a cameraman over and points out a few fans in the crowd who are dressed up as brightly as she is - it looks like her presence is drawing a new demographic to Pure Class Wrestling! Kelli slips under the bottom rope into the ring as the frenetic rave-like lighting continues, dancing in the ring as she waits for Andy D. to arrive.

The intro of 'Are You Not Entertained' hits out on the PA system, and when it asks for everybody to scream the crowd goes crazy and Andy appears from the back. Kelli’s dancing changes from her usual raver bouncing to something closer to a rap video’s back-up dancer as she mouths the words to the song. As Andy heads towards the ring, he slaps hands with as many people of the crowd as he can. Approaching the ring, Andy slides under the bottom rope before running up to a random turnbuckle, hopping up to the second turnbuckle and motioning for the crowd to cheer loudly, Kelli cheering with them. Andy jumps down and removes his bucket hat, placing it on the metal part of the turnbuckle in his corner before standing ready for the match.

Manny Cruz steps forward to toss out the obligatory “play nice” spiel, Dollface and Andy shaking hands, separating a few feet back from each other as Cruz calls for the bell - and the match begins! They spend a few moments sizing each other up, inch for inch the same height and not quite 20lbs of difference in weight, the crowd buzzing. Dollface is first to break the stillness, lunging towards Andy in a grapple attempt, only to stumble forward as Andy unexpectedly gives ground! Dollface quickly recovers her momentum and chases him across the ring with single-minded focus, Andy backing away from her just as quickly as she pursues. Andy gives a fine display his veteran status and ring awareness by nimbly hopping up to the second rope without a second’s hesitation or so much as a glance behind him, using the extra bit of height to launch himself at Kelli with an old school diving fist drop! She manages to dodge a bit, deflecting a small part of the impact but taking the brunt of it, Andy dropping her to the mat! A quick struggle between the two and she’s on her feet, clearly there’s no pin attempt this early in the game for these two exceptionally athletic competitors.

Dollface rushes forward again, but this time Andy meets her charge, the two locking up in the center of the ring, each straining for supremacy in this incredibly even match-up. Despite the differing styles, it’s more than obvious to the crowd that the outcome of this match is by no means clear. Andy manages to get his arm locked around Kelli’s neck, her aversion to submission holds making keeping his grip on her about as difficult as trying to nail rainbow-colored jello to a tree. She manages to squirm partially free, but Andy reacts quickly enough to lock his grip around her forearm and twist her into an armbar! He walks a struggling Kelli over to the ropes, making his wibbly-wobbly way up to the second rope before she lurches away clumsily, doing her best to pull him off balance without risking damage to the locked arm. In a show of sportsmanship and awareness, Andy releases quickly to prevent permanent damage to Dollface’s arm - and to send her crashing to the mat, facilitated by her own momentum à la cartoon slapstick comedy. Andy follows her down for a quick, optimistic pin attempt, Manny Cruz sliding in to make the count!

...1!

..-kickout!

Kelli reacts before the 2-count, surging up from the mat to lay into Andy with a flurry of strikes, knees and elbows flying. Andy, too competent a technician to be completely offset by the barrage, nevertheless takes a few solid, stray hits to the ribs and abdomen. Dollface backs off for a few seconds, apparently having exhausted her pique at being put in any sort of submission hold, Andy taking advantage of the break in the enemy fire to dive-roll past her towards the ropes! Springing up to the second rope, then the third, he fires off a perfectly executed dropkick knocking her again to the mat. Andy D., already making a strong showing in this last match before the big Game Over pay-per-view, rises first and drags Kelli to her feet with another armbar. Holding her securely he walks her over to the ropes, again making his tenuous way up, walking her with him as he navigates the top rope before jerking her forward into a headlock and dropping it all into a diving bulldog! Moving in quickly he tangles her up for a pin, Cruz right there at the ready!

...1!

...2!

...-kickout!

Dollface gets a shoulder up, breaking the pin before the 3-count, rolling away from Andy before she kips up, the two superstars again facing each other across the ring - Dollface somewhat the worse for wear. Andy presses his advantage, running at Kelli, who dodges the rush and gives Andy a shove towards the ropes! Andy bounces back, not entirely off balance, and uses the momentum to charge towards PCW’s most savagely hyperactive wrestler, stopped brutally short by a neck tie clothesline! Kelli continues the attack once Andy is down, dropping a few kicks into his midsection until Cruz steps in with a warning. Dollface sticks her tongue out at the ref but backs off long enough for Andy to find his feet. No sooner is he up than she’s back all up in his grill with a rough looking spear, locking him up in an armbar of her own and using it to leverage him to his feet. One quick movement later and she’s moved him around to her side, dropping her center of gravity and sending him crashing down to the mat with a hip toss powerslam! Finally satisfied that he might stay still long enough to accomplish the feat, Kelli rolls him up for a pin!

...1!

...2!

...3!

Winner: Kelli Starr

At the third count Kelli immediately releases Andy, who spends a moment relaxing on the mat and gaining his bearings after the sudden, aggressive end to the match. In the meantime, Kelli prances over to Andy’s trademark hat still perched on the turnbuckle. Donning the white bucket hat she models for the crowd, striking different poses and cheering along with the massed fans in attendance. Turning back to Andy she steps forward and reaches out a hand, pulling him up to his feet, the two congratulating each other on a match well fought. Planting Andy’s hat back on its head she and Andy make their way towards the back, the crowd exploding into cheers for BOTH competitors and their hard fought match as we head to ...

... an unknown location and the sound of traffic in the near distance. For a moment the only sight is that of asphalt and the only sound that of passing cars… until the camera pans upwards to see the feet and legs of a crowd on the sidewalk. Through the noise of passing engines a growing number of horns can be heard blasting in offense.

Slowly, the camera moves upwards and finds the imposing image of Non Compos Mentis stood at a roadside with the looming PCW Arena in the background. Surrounding him is a group of dishevelled, grubby looking individuals of varying size, shape, age and gender… the only common link is that every one of them has the distinct look of a hobo.

Jerry Andrews: That’s Non Compos Mentis outside the PCW Arena. Later tonight three of his... errr… ‘Family’ will face off against Tyler Scott with a match at Game Over 3 on the line, but of course Non Compos Mentis is suspended from competition and unable to enter the arena tonight!

Al Laiman: That doesn’t stop him from making his creepy influence known though!

As more car horns blurt out their honks and hoots, Mentis takes a deep breath and stares at the camera, his eyes filled with mania and delusion. Three of his hobo horde look particularly prominent among the rest, three larger and more threatening individuals standing close to their leader.

Non Compos Mentis: People! Men! Women! Children! Tonight you WILL see the strength of my family! Yet our strength cannot be measured in wins and losses, it is measured in blood and chaos and the mark we will leave on PCW. Tyler Scott will witness that mark, he will in fact be the foundation of it.

Lifting his arms to the sky as if beckoning a god, Mentis raises eyes and keeps talking, believing every single work he speaks with vehement fanaticism.

Non Compos Mentis: You will ALL pay witness to the beginning of a new age! Remember those you have forgotten, repay the debt you owe to them and make things better. Join us, join the revolution and accept the changes that will inevitably come!

The ‘Born Psycho’s’ eyes return to the camera and yet more car horns blare as they pass the rabid horde of vagrants. As if answering their indignant cries he continues with increasing anger.

Non Compos Mentis: Are you not convinced?! What more proof do you need?! If you need more then cast your eyes to my family, cast your eyes to the men who will make a martyr of Tyler Scott!

Mentis turns to the three larger men to his sides, distinct from the rest by their size and relatively healthy look… the operative word being ‘relatively’. While still scruffy and downtrodden in look, they appear strong and more than ready for a fight. Placing an almost fatherly hand on the shoulder of the man to his left, NCM goes on.

Non Compos Mentis: These three HEROES will walk on the hallowed ground of the PCW Arena, ground trodden by names like Lantlas Anduril, Phinehas Grimm, Ace Anderson and Luis Malave! These three men you ALL forgot will walk that ground and they will burn it with their footsteps. And in their wake, in the ashen ground they leave behind, there will be new growth. There will be no more Tyler Scott. There will be no more ignorance. There will be no more denial. This IS the age of Non Compos Mentis!

With these last words his face goes still and his mouth goes silent. All that can be hear are the engines of passing cars and the winds that blow his scraggily hair demonically through the air. Mentis closes his eyes in an eerie calm and takes a few deep breathes, waiting as the cameraman pulls back slightly, hoping it’s his cue to leave. It isn’t, however, as the blind Mentis reaches out with a single finger and beckons him back in. Reluctantly, he follows and Non Compos Mentis’ eyes snap open and his voice becomes a whisper.

Non Compos Mentis: Repent your misdemeanors, for we are forgiving people. Remember the forgotten, for the forgotten do not always remain dead. Join us. JOIN US!

The last two words rise to a shout and a hideous cackle follows, this time making the cameraman back away so much that no beckoning would make him return.

Jerry Andrews: That man is delusional.

Al Laiman: And so were Charles Manson and Jim Jones, but they had followers. He’s delusional, but he’s dangerous as hell and his ‘family’ will do anything for him. I would not want to be in Tyler Scott’s shoes tonight!

Match Five

Singles Match

Rick Majors vs. Grimm

Referee: Eric Russo

The lights go out. Suddenly the sound of guitars pierce through the silence. A spotlight shines on the entrance. The crowd starts to murmur. As the guitars get louder, Rick Majors appears in the entrance way, the spotlight directly on him and no one else. Majors pauses in the entrance way for a moment.

Majors looks down briefly. He then shakes his head, breathes deeply, but instead of looking to the crowd his eyes remain focused on the ring/

["You drink the wise blood
You're gonna hear about it
You'll be taken down brick by brick by brick
Burn the orphanage
You're gonna pay for it
They will purify block by block by block"]

Majors stands at the top of the ramp, still looking down at the ring with an unusual expression of melancholia and focus.

["'Demons
Come on
You've got a vision
You're on a mission
Demons
Live on
And when I die, hang me high"]

Majors then slowly walks down to the ring, as the spotlight follows him. He climbs the ring steps and pauses, the turns towards the crowd finally, standing on the ring apron.

["They're gonna bury you
They're gonna finish
They're gonna stand em up six by six by six
You pull the hood back
I wanna know
Which way will the heavenly go?

Taken down, taken down, taken down"]

He enters the ring, still only lit by the spotlight. He then stands in the centre of the ring, looking out towards the crowd and slowly starts to circle the ring, stretching and loosening up his body before turning his attention entirely to the ramp.

The lone spotlight now illuminates the entryway as "Winter Shaker" seeps from the speakers. Phinehas Grimm steps out to bask in the light and shadows, head bowed, arms limp, with rogue strands of dripping hair hanging in his face. He takes it all in for a few moments before making the long walk to the ring, ignoring the fans along the way while Wovenhand continues his serenade. Instead his eyes find themselves staring at Rick Majors, and his eyes staring straight back.

Phinehas climbs up onto the apron and slides in between the ropes. Hopping up onto a turnbuckle, he casts his gaze out over the crowd with his arms at his side, eyes shifting to take in the sea of faces spread out before him. Finally he looks back over his shoulder at the unmoving figure of Majors, still staring, still with the same grim focus. Phinehas drops down and waits for the referee as the lights return to normal.

Eric Russo checks on both men and signals for the bell, but as it rings out ...

DING DING DING!

... neither man makes an instant movement. Both men merely stay in their corners and stare at each other, waiting for something to happen. The crowd’s anticipation is audible as a murmur moves through the arena, ending when finally Rick Majors takes a few steps forward into the middle. His melancholic expression is still present, Majors stands still in the center of the ring and says something to Grimm, but it elicits no reaction. The cameras move in closer but they needn’t bother as a flash of anger passes over Majors and he points to his temple before shouting “Don’t hold back!”

Grimm cautiously walks out of the corner, not out of hesitance to strike Majors but out of suspicion that it’s a trap. As he gets closer though, Majors gets increasingly frustrated. The Lord of Misrule gets closer and closer but still nothing happens and he is certain Majors is really surrendering to Grimm’s hand but he does nothing. Majors sees this and reacts… by slapping Grimm across the face and shouting at him, “Don’t pity me! Do your worst!”

To that, Grimm obeys. He erupts with a vicious volley of punches, both left and right, that rock Majors and force him backwards until he’s pressed against the ropes. Grimm keeps firing away with blow after blow until, eventually, Eric Russo has to pull him back for fear of a Disqualification. Seeing this, Majors is infuriated more and lunges forward with a brutal Elbow Smash to the bridge of Grimm’s nose. His opponent staggers backwards and Majors comes forward, unleashing the pent up emotion within him with a continuing torrent of elbows that this time force Grimm back to the ropes.

At a four count from Russo, Majors stops only to whips Grimm across the ring. As he rebounds, Majors is waiting for him and lays in a vicious Roundhouse Kick to the midsection. Grimm drops to his knees and Majors looks down at him…. Then slaps him around the face again and asks “Are you angry yet?!” Apparently Grimm is, as he lashes out with a punch to the gut before getting back to his feet. The fiery-faced legend goes on the offensive and strikes with a combination of varied strikes; palm strikes, backhand strikes, chops and finally a blunt headbutt. With Majors stunned, Grimm grabs his hand and whips him across the ring, meeting him on the return with a Drop Toe Hold. As Majors is grounded, Grimm hits the ropes himself and drops swiftly to the mat, hitting a Basement Dropkick to the temple of his opponent before hooking the leg.

One… Kick out!

Majors escapes almost immediately, and when he reaches a knee he looks almost insulted by the attempt from Grimm. In response, Phinehas lands a straight boot to his cheek. Majors tries to recover to his feet but Grimm is unrelenting now, meeting him on the mat with a series of sprawling MMA-style Lunging Elbow strikes before breaking and climbing back to his feet. Majors follows him and the two meet in the middle, locking up until Majors executes an arm drag to escape. As Grimm tries to get back to his feet, Majors smashes him in the face with a low Side Kick. Grimm isn’t floored however, and Majors slams a second kick into the side of his head that severely dazes his opponent but still doesn’t floor him. The angered Majors charges up a third and fires it off…. But Grimm catches it!

Pushing himself to his feet, Grimm keeps hold of Majors’ leg and throws it around, causing Majors to spin. As he does, Grimm spins too and unleashes a Spinning Chop to the base of Majors’ neck that would decapitate a normal human. But Majors clearly isn’t normal as he stumbles backwards and bounces off the ropes uncontrollably. Unable to the stop he walks straight into a powerful Samoan Drop that takes the wind out of him. Getting to his feet, Grimm hits the ropes and lands a running Leg Drop across the throat of Majors, following it up with two more before making a pin.

One…
Two…
NO!

Grimm stands again and grabs Majors by the head to pull him up, but Majors shoves him backwards with all his strength. Grimm falls back into the ropes and bounces back straight into a fierce Roundhouse Kick straight to the skull, knocking him down to the mat. Majors, still struggling to catch his own breath, takes the moment to holler another desperate sounding order at Grimm, “Stop holding back!” But Grimm is still on the mat and Majors reacts by pulling him to his knees and firing a series of Step Kicks into his forehead at short range.

Grimm tries to fight through the attack and get to his feet, but as he reaches a vertical base Majors whips him across the ring and executes a Hip Toss on his return. Grimm hits hard and tries to sit up, only for Majors to strike him across the back with another savage kick. Majors is unrelenting, hitting a second and a third kick to the back but his actions seem more out of frustration than a real intent to hurt Grimm. This still doesn’t stop him hitting the ropes and rebounding, aiming a knee straight at the head of his opponent….but Grimm dodges it!

As Grimm jumps up to his feet, Majors spins to see what happened only to receive a lightning fast Enziguri to the back of the head! As Majors collapses to a knee, Grimm sees an opportunity and locks a Sleeper in on his opponent before dropping him with a sickening Lament Configuration neckbreaker. Majors crumples on the mat as Grimm struggles over and hooks the leg.

One…
Two…
THR..NO!

Majors gets his shoulder up and, when Grimm stands up in front of him, tries to get back to his feet. He only manages to get to his knees before he continues to taunt and provoke his opponent even more, again shouting “Stop holding back! Finish it!”

Instead of continuing the attack, however, Grimm looks at Eric Russo. He appears to ask that Russo stop the match for Majors’ own good, and that what should have been a respectful contest now turned into Majors goading Grimm to injure him. Russo merely shakes his head, acknowledging that Majors is putting himself in a dangerous position but that he cannot stop the match without a pin or submission. Seeing this dissention and taking it as pity, Majors reacts angrily once more. He climbs to his feet while Grimm is looking away and hits the ropes, returning and leaping into the air, delivering a shuddering Spinning Heel Kick to the back of his head!

The Center of Attention leaves Grimm down and clutching the back of his head while Majors tries to infuriate him further by slapping him around the back of the head. Grimm tries to recover but still Majors is in a trance of frustration and he shoves Grimm backwards into the turnbuckles. Before Grimm can put up a defense, Majors begins to send off a salvo of ferocious Roundhouse Kicks to his chest and head. One after another hits home and Grimm drops deeper and deeper into the corner until Eric Russo interjects and pulls Majors back to prevent a disqualification again. Majors tries to argue with the referee but Russo stands his ground and tries to get Majors to compete fairly and give up his repeated goading, and as he does Grimm pushes himself up… no longer with a look of respect or neutrality, but of pure wrath.

Majors turns to his opponent just in time to see this look and a brief grin slips across his mouth as if to say ‘mission accomplished’ before it’s summarily wiped off his face with an open handed slap that echoes around the arena! Majors smiles again and lands a boot to the midsection of the recovering Grimm, before dragging him out of the corner and locking him up for a Suplex. Majors attempts to haul Grimm into the air but the angry and revitalized Lord of Misrule resists. Majors tries again quickly, looking to hit a Brainbuster to seal the fury of his opponent, but Grimm still holds out. Before Majors can try again, Grimm grabs his leg and begins to lift him into the air. Being so close to the turnbuckles, however, there is nowhere else for the Fisherman’s Suplex to land but… back first straight down on the top turnbuckle!

Bouncing awkwardly off the turnbuckle, Majors crashes to the mat and crawls clear from the corner while Grimm stalks him ominously from a distance. Still with a grin on his face, Majors pushes himself to his feet and stumbles around, trying to catch his bearings. Grimm sees his chance now and hits the ropes with pace, rebounding and wrapping his arms around the neck of Majors before twisting and dropping with a crushing Running Lament Configuration! Grimm isn't done there though and he retreats to the corner in wait for Majors to climb to his feet. It takes a while and the crowd are on tenterhooks as they watch Majors push himself bit by bit back up. Finally he reaches his feet and Grimm takes a running start before delivering a skull-shattering Harvest!

Grimm triumphantly hooks the leg and nods his head to count along with Eric Russo…

One…
Two…
THREE!
NO!

Amazingly Majors isn't unconscious and gets his shoulder up in time. Grimm appears to be in shock as Majors begins to stir more on the mat and he checks with Russo that it wasn't a three. The referee is adamant that it was only two and allows the match to continue, although Grimm’s thirst for competition seems to have faded now he looks down at Majors who is struggling to do anything.

Grimm merely stands in the middle of the ring, staring down at Majors who tenaciously begins to use Grimm’s own leg as a post to climb up. An usual sense of hesitance crosses over the Hangtown Horror, an unwillingness to do anything more and perhaps permanently injure a respected adversary. Still Majors claws his way up Grimm’s body until he is finally on his knees at waist level. He looks up into the eyes of Grimm and the Lord of Misrules looks back, hearing the still scathing words coming painfully from Majors’ mouth… “Finish it! Finish it you son of a bitch!”]

For a second Grimm does nothing, but finally he snaps and clasps Majors’ head in both hands before dragging his barely functioning body to the nearest turnbuckle. Utterly defenseless, Majors watches as Grimm climbs to the second ropes, places his head under his arm and dives off, plummeting into the mat with a second, horrific Harvest!

One…
Two…
Finally, THREE!

‘Winter Shaker’ whistles through the PA system and both Grimm and Russo look relieved that the match is over. While Russo bends over the motionless Majors, Grimm is more than happy to relieve himself from the ring at the soonest chance. Though victorious, Phinehas looks ... for a brief moment PERTURBED as he begins to make his way up the ramp and is passed by EMT’s who rush to help Majors in the ring.

There is a deathly silence in the arena as nobody knows quite what to make of Majors’ insane actions, but as Grimm reaches the top of the ramp a quiet, slowly growing murmur begins to move around the arena. As if in disbelief, the PCW Faithful begin to chatter among themselves and it gradually reaches the level that Grimm feels compelled to turn around. He stares down the ramp and up to the ring where, inexplicably, the broken and beaten yet conscious figure of Rick Majors has draped himself over the middle rope.

His eyes glare at Grimm with a renewed anger and frustration, but beneath that desperation. They ask a question that Grimm thought he had answered by finally getting the win, but Majors’ eyes gives a higher meaning… ‘Why didn't you finish it?’. Grimm, looking more and more troubled (as troubled as Grimm can be, mind you), can only turn and walk off to the back while Majors remains in the ring ... leading EMT’s up the ramp ... being followed just in case he keels over for his determination as we go for a commercial break.

[Murdoc]

Match Six

Hobo Horde Gauntlet Match

Tyler Scott vs. 3 Hobos

Referee: Joseph Buckland

BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

The ground-shaking bass of ‘Galvanise’ by Chemical Brothers suddenly announces the arrival of Tyler Scott. Without hesitation, Tyler strides out from the back, with an aggressive focus written across his face. He ever so slightly acknowledges the crowd - who for once seem to be unanimously cheering for the British Lion. He heads to the ring, staying his usual focused self. He climbs into the ring and walks to the centre where he stares intensely down to his taped hands. With a twirl of the wrists and a crack of his knuckles, his attention turns to the ramp. This entrance theme fades to silence, and is replaced by...

“SCUM OF…THE EARTH… COME ON!”

The heavy beat of drum and harsh guitar kick in immediately after hearing the voice of Rob Zombie blasting over the PA system. Instinctively the crowd boo as Non Compos Mentis appears on the big screen with his family of homeless followers surrounding him.

“I’M BREATHING! I’M BLEEDING! I’M SCREAMING!"

He ponders for a few moment, slowly stroking his chin, as he weighs up his options. Satisfied, he reaches out to the biggest and heaviest of his homeless followers, and grips him around the head. He utters a few words of encouragement before slapping him on the shoulder and sending him away to be the first competitor in the gauntlet.

Tyler Scott looks up towards the ramp, eagerly expecting the arrival of the first hobo on the stage. However, following a incremental murmuring in a corner of the stadium, the crowd parts and a crazed hobo jumps over the railing. He dives in the ring and, with Scott still looking up to stage, he attacks from behind with a clubbing blow. Tyler crumples to the mat, startled and unable to react. The hobo dives straight on him as the bell sounds to begin the match.

DING DING DING!

The hobo pounds away with flailing, uncontrolled fists. Tyler Scott, surprised by the attack, can only cover up and mitigate the initial damage. The hobo jumps to his feet only to drive raged kicks into the rib cage of the British Lion.

As Tyler begins to struggle to his feet, with aid from the ring rope. But the hobo maintains the pressure and forces Tyler's throat over the rope, choking him. The referee calls for the hobo to release the illegal move, and he does so with only the slimmest of margins before disqualification. Scott gasps for air as the referee reprimands the hobo. However, the hobo doesn't take lightly to the wagging finger of the referee and gives him an intimidating poke in the sternum. The referee soon backs off and allows the hobo to continue the assault.

Tyler Scott has used the pause in proceedings to haul himself to his feet, but remains draped across the ropes. The hobo advances again, hitting a clubbing blow to the back of the neck. He then turns Scott around and wraps a right fist into the side of the face, causing a splattering of saliva to eject from Tyler's mouth. The hobo follows up by sending Tyler Scott across the ring and waits for his opponent to rebound. Tyler Scott ducks under a clothesline and turns quicker than his opponent. Tyler drives a right foot into the back of the knee, causing the hobo to drop down to all fours, before kicking him in the stomach.

The hobo lets out an illiterate groan as he grabs his torso. As he does so, he leaves his head open to attack and Scott obliges. He swings a right boot into the left temple of the hobo. He rolls around the on mat, clutching his face, but Tyler continues with a vicious combination of kicks. He stomps on the chest and toe-pokes the ribs in a series of a dozen or more kicks. Tyler Scott then takes the opportunity to pin his opponents shoulder's down.

1...2... The hobo scruffily kicks out of the pin fall - only just managing to get his shoulder off the mat in time.

Tyler gets to his feet and hauls up the hobo. He grapples from the side, lifting the hobo up and hitting a crunching back breaker. As the hobo hits the canvas, Scott once again makes a quick cover.

1...2... The hobo kicks out again.

Tyler gets to a vertical base and circles his opponent, picking his next angle of attack. He goes across the corner, turns and charges. But the hobo is aware of his oncoming assualt and dives to the mat, hitting a chop block to the right knee of Tyler Scott. With his knee cap knocked backwards, Tyler collapses to the canvas. Seeing his opportunity, the hobo jumps on Scott and makes a clumsy cover.

1... Tyler reacts quickly, rolling his shoulder off the mat.

The unwashed warrior keeps Scott grounded, hitting a forearm to the face. As Tyler clutches his face, he exposes the back of his head where the hobo quickly drives a knee.

The hobo lifts Tyler off the ground and locks in a squeezing bear hug. Tyler attempts to break the hold before the air is forced from his lungs, but the hobo tightens his grip. Scott struggles to breath but drives numerous elbows into the hobo's back. But the hobo drives forward, slamming the British Lion into the turnbuckle, winding him even further. The hobo turns and charges across the diagonal of the ring and crushes Tyler Scott into the opposite turnbuckle.

Every moment that the hobo has the bearhug locked in, Tyler loses more and more energy. However, Scott tries once more to break the hold but the hobo goes back the ring and crashes into the third turnbuckle in quick succession. Having drained the strength from Tyler Scott, the hobo then releases the hold but keeps the pressure on. In the corner, the hobo drives four consecutive shoulders into the gut of the Brit, who groans with each drive.

The hobo pulls Tyler to the middle of the rope, where he hits a hard forearm strike the face. He then proceeds to send Scott across the ring before positioning himself in the center of the ring, waiting for Tyler to come back his way. But the hobo drops his head too early and Tyler kicks him square in the face. Tyler, in a burst of energy, catapults off the adjacent ropes, building up momentum. The hobo swings a wild right hand but Tyler ducks under. The hobo spins around, swinging another right punch but Tyler ducks again and stays crouched. As the hobo's body comes to a stop, Scott jumps up and hits a upper cut chop to the throat. The hobo sputters and coughs as he turns a dazed 180 degrees. Tyler grabs him by his long greasy hair and tucks his head under his arm. He then drives his head into the canvas with a massive STO.

Tyler Scott covers.

1...2...3!

Scott has earned his rematch with NCM at Game Over 3! But we’re not done there ...

After taking a moment to compose himself Scott kicks the hobo in the ribs, knocking him to the side of the ring. He kicks him once more and the hobo rolls to ringside. Tyler stares up at at the screen, watching Non Compos Mentis' reaction and calling for the next opponent. A furious Non Compos Mentis violently pushes his second disciple away towards the ring area.

Learning lessons from what happened at the beginning of the match, Tyler Scott takes up a vigilant position in the center of the ring. He keeps rotating, scanning the crowd of signs of the imminent arrival of his second opponent.

However, Tyler is once again complacent as he neglects to keep an eye towards the stage. From the side of the ramp comes the second hobo - diving into the ring with gusto. This time, Scott hears the hobo enter the ring and turns to intercept a swinging right hand. He blocks and returns a straight right jab. The hobo is instantly stunned and wobbles backwards before being hit with another jabbing shot. Now against the ropes, the hobo receives a driving knee to the gut causing him to recoil. His head drops, allowing Tyler to grapple from the side. Scott lifts the hobo off his feet and then drops him, bollocks first, over the top rope. The hobo holds onto his grapefruits in agony, as Tyler begins to enjoy himself. He grabs the top rope and shakes it up and down - increasing the pain in the groin area.

With the hobo balancing on the top rope, Tyler sprints across the ring. Building up momentum off the opposite ropes, he charges back and hits a beautiful running inziguri to the head. The hobo drops like a stone to the ringside area.

Tyler, after taking a moment to soak up a smattering of cheers from the crowd, exits to ringside. There, he lifts the hobo to his feet before slamming his greasy face into the ring steps. With a corrugated imprint on his forehead, the hobo falls to his knees. Tyler once again plays to the crowd before lining up his opponent. With the hobos head in line with the top ring step, Tyler charges from behind and hits a dropkick between the shoulder blades. The hobo's face once again bounces off the metal and he crumples into a sweaty mess on the floor.

The referee screams out a count of 6 and Scott decides its time to bring the action back to the ring. Lifting his opponent to his feet, Scott rolls him back into the ring before he climbs onto the apron. Becoming a touch casual, Tyler slowly climbs the turnbuckle and mistakenly takes a moment to gaze into the crowd. Tyler makes it to the top rope but the slight pause gives the hobo the opportunity to recover and throw himself at the ropes. The vibration causes Tyler to loose his footing and land very awkwardly with a turnbuckle between his thighs.

The hobo climbs up to the second turnbuckle as momentum shifts. Once there, he grabs Tyler by the ears and scrapes his dirty nails into the vulnerable skin. Tyler grimaces and pushes his unwashed opponent in the chest. The hobo falls back to canvas level, but soon jumps back to the second rope where he delivers a stinging double eye rake. With Scott momentarily blinded, the hobo takes the opportunity to hit a series of hard right hands to the temple.

With the homeless man becoming increasingly confident inside the ring, he decides to attempt a traditional wrestling move. He positions Tyler Scott for a superplex off the top rope. But his confidence is misplace and Tyler's experiences allows him to easily counter the hold.

Reversing the grapple, Tyler throws the hobo from the top rope with force. The hobo plummets and face-plants the canvas. Rolling onto his back, the second homeless warrior looks semi-unconscious as Tyler sees an opening. Scott climbs to the top rope, shaking off the effects of the hobos previous dirty tactics. Once steadied on the top turnbuckle, Tyler looks up to Non Compos Mentis before flying into the air.

Tyler makes a perfect contact with the move he dedicates to the British wrestling great, The Dynamite Kid. After a moment of haziness, Tyler shuffles over and makes the cover. 1......2......3!

The big screen flashes back on to show Non Compos Mentis getting increasingly irate. However, there is no sign of the third hobo, who it is assumed is already on his way. However, we’re two falls in and Tyler Scott has won the chance to choose the referee for the match!

Suddenly, without warning, the third hobo hurdles the ringside barrier and dives into the ring. Before the second hobo has even left the ring, the third begins pounding away at Tyler Scott. As Tyler faces another ambush to start the third fall, his previous opponent is removed from the ring by the referee.

After a solid minute of ground and pound by the fresh hobo, he finally relents and drags Tyler to his feet.

The hobo his a right hand but out of no where, Tyler Scott replies with his own. The hobo strikes again but Scott replies again. This time, the jab dazes the hobo. Tyler lunges forward, hitting punch after punch. The hobo reels and stumbles backwards, only to be saved by the ropes. Scott takes a moment or two just to in take some air before charging forward. But the pause by Tyler allows the hobo to reach and trip him. Tyler lands across the second rope. The hobo then attacks with numerous shots to the kidneys.

With Scott winded and in a vulnerable position, the hobo lifts him up by the end and lands a kick to the mid section. Tyler grimaces in pain as he crawls towards the corner. The hobo lifts him to his feet and hits a stinging chop to the chest, but Tyler Scott replies with an even harsher chop. The hobo tries to maintain dominance but Tyler hit another chop and another. The hobo realising that he needs to cut down the momentum before it turns, swings a huge right hook. But he misses.

Out of nowhere, Tyler Scott connects with a spinning roundhouse kick to the face.

Tyler Scott takes a few moments to compose himself before beginning to stir once again. Tyler gets to his feet and drags the hobo up with him. He wraps a forearm across his face, knocking the hobo off balance. From behind, Tyler wraps his around the waist and hits a perfectly executed german suplex with the hobo handing hard on the back of the head and neck. The hobo rolls backwards and somehow manages return back to his feet. He stumbles backwards and bounces off the ropes. Tyler Scott is already back to his feet and eagerly waiting. The hobo walks straight into a snap suplex from Tyler, who then rolls through into a mounted position. Tyler places his knee straight across the face and grabs the arm. Twisting and deforming the shoulder joints, Tyler snaps on a brutal armbar, causing a squeal from his opponent. The hobo stupidly tries to struggle out of the it, only to make the pain worse.

However, as the hobo is just about to tap out, another member of the homeless hoard appears to pull the referee from the ring.

The referee, landing on his feet, is quick to confront the hobo. The hobo, however, strolls forward and pushes the referee in the chest with an intimidating shove. The hobo doesn't seem concerned with harming the referee, choosing only to distract the referee from his duties and keep his fellow hobo in the contest. In the ring, Tyler Scott holds onto the armbar whilst watching the interference occuring at ringside. The hobo, wrapped up in a devasting submission, taps for dear life on the canvas. Tyler Scott maintains the hold for a few moments, considering whether to inflict lasting damage on his opponent, or go after the intruder.

Suddenly, just as Tyler is considering to release the hold, another black and white striped official heads to the ring.

It’s Tyrone Little!

Tyler sees Tyrone Little charging to the ring and keeps hold of the armbar. As soon as Tyrone dives into the ring, he jumps to his feet and calls for the bell.

DING...DING...DING!

The hobo on the outside of the ring turns around to see Tyrone Little lifting the arm of Tyler Scott. With his fellow homeless warrior writhing in agony inside the ring, he leans in to pull him from safety. Tyler shouts abuse to the two homeless lackeys as they retreat.

Winner: Tyler Scott

The big screen suddenly flashes back on to show Non Compos Mentis sedately fuming at the performance of his army. Tyler Scott looks up and calls for a microphone, which Tyrone Little is happy to pass it on from the ring announcer.

Tyler Scott: Hey! NOB... COMPOST... MENTOS!

Non Compos Mentis snarls as he hears the echoes of Tyler Scott's mockery through the arena's public announce system.

Tyler Scott: Ah good. Guess what? I did what I said I would do. I took out each one of your dirty unwashed family one by one. And now, I've got you all to myself, dickhead!

The crowd erupts with cheers (while the network executives surely shake their heads at the language being used) and chant for Scott after his victory. The British Lion walks up to the ropes as if getting closer to his nemesis on the tron and speaks.

Tyler Scott: I won the first fall. I earned my right to a rematch at Game Over 3!

A further, even louder cheer rises from the PCW Faithful at the thought of Scott finally getting his hands on Mentis again.

Tyler Scott: I won the second fall. That means I get to choose the referee...

Tyler Scott pauses for a second, but it appears that he has already made up his mind. He turns and points at the man sharing the ring with him.

Tyler Scott: I choose Tyrone Little!

Even Little looks surprised as the fans emit a huge cheer for PCW’s senior official, who has been put through so much by the ‘Born Psycho’ and his Horde. As Scott continues the deck only gets stacked higher against NCM who is visibly trembling with anger and frustration on the Tron.

Tyler Scott: And I won the third fall. That means I get to choose the stipulation. Ever since I came to Pure Class Wrestling, you and your dirty hobos have been scuttling around this place like vermin. They have protected you for far too long. I want you all to myself. I want you where none of your little needle-dick cronies can interfere. So...it will be me and you...one on one...at Game Over 3...inside a STEEL CAGE!

At this point the crowd are rocking the arena with their volume and the network are already counting their complaints for the language. Nobody cares though and Mentis already seems to be formulating plans of how to survive the Cage.

Tyler Scott: See you then!

Scott throws the microphone to the mat and turns to Tyrone Little, issuing words of encouragement for his upcoming encounter with the man who ordered his assault. Meanwhile, on the Tron, Mentis lunges forward and shoves the cameraman away, furious with the result of the Gauntlet and the revelations going into Game Over 3 as we head to a commercial break.

[Murdoc]

Match Seven

Non-Title Singles Match

Johnathan Cable(Tag Team Champion) vs. Whitey Ford(INT. Champion)

Referee: Austin Shaw

The lights dim around the arena and a hush descends on the crowd. The opening taps of drums and the beginning riffs of the guitar of Hoobastank's 'This is Gonna Hurt' can be heard filtering through the speakers. Green pin spots swirls wildly around the arena flashing across the fans as they start to cheer wildly. Smoke fills the metal ramp as the drum beat and the guitar pick up a bit. A figure can be seen making its way out of the curtain atop the ramp, and green spotlights tear into the darkness, criss-crossing wildly in front of the curtain where we see a large silhouette of a man lit from behind the curtains.

The lyrics begin to chant the melody and the fans really get into the bass beat of the drums and the kicking riffs of the guitar. The spotlights are waving across the stage wildly, and out of the darkness of the curtain, into the green spotlights waving everywhere, just as the music kicks in hard, Johnathan Cable springs forward onto the ramp screaming at the night. He loves the cheers from the crowd as he makes his way to the ring clapping hands with fans and hugging kids who make their way to the railing to see him.

The lights fade in as the music goes on, and Johnathan slides in under the ropes to get ready for his match.

"Critical Acclaim" by Avenged Sevenfold starts to play, and the lights dim down to darkness, except for the stage. The PCWtron plays clips if Ford hitting his finishers or any other high impact moves. Once the heavy guitars kick in, Whitey walks out onto the stage with his arms held open, soaking in the crowd reaction with an arrogant smile. He doesn't waste much time on the stage and continues down the ramp, not afraid to mouth off to the fans if they get too vocal along the way.

Out withOUT Johnny Veigns here tonight, you get the sense that this has become semi-personal for Whitey Ford. Arguably the most VOCAL member of the PCW roster going head to head with ANOTHER explosively vocal member in Johnathan Cable and it’s near a sure bet that there will be some smack talk and verbal bombshells dropped in this particular match.

The International Champion rolls into the ring and immediately walks straight towards Johnathan Cable. Whitey raises his belt up defiantly to the side ... while Cable raises HIS belt to the other side. Whitey looks at Cable and his belt and promptly lets loose a torrent of words that include ‘worthless’ and ‘cheap plastic’, following up with hocking a loogey at Cable’s tag team belt with disdain. Cable is INFURIATED and throws a punch at Whitey. The bell sounds ...

DING DING DING!

... and we’re underway with a BANG! Whitey and Cable trading shots in the center of the ring, the referee is having a hard time getting this one under control. It’s an all out brawl and it’s bowling shoe ugly. Both men throwing bombs, neither willing to back down ... it’s only a matter of time before one of them lets up. And in this case, it’s Johnathan getting the upper hand on Whitey! The disrespect towards him and his belt is enough to send Cable over the edge, giving him the adrenaline rush and the sheer anger to fully unload on Whitey.

Several hard strikes later and Whitey is staggering in the center of the ring. A quick bounce off the ropes and Cable attempts a shoulderblock, but Whitey sidesteps it and throws him to the other side of the ropes. The second time, Whitey drops to the mat and lets Cable bounce directly over him. Hopping back up, Whitey is right on time to catch the Beast Train. Johnathan Cable with a head full of steam is NOT a pretty picture ... and Whitey learns the first hand as Cable plows over him with the force of a small Mack Truck.

Cable hitting the mat, he rains down hammer blows onto Whitey and does so until told not to by the official. That being said, he goes for the entire five count before relenting. As Cable goes to stand, Whitey ... ever the clever competitor .... trips Cable by the feet. Once he hits the mat, Whitey is on top of him in a rear-mounted position and nailing Cable with heavy cross forearm shots. The angle is enough for Whitey to take control of the situation by leverage and positioning alone, a very smart and tactically sound move. There’s a REASON why he’s the International Champion, after all.

As Whitey removes his presence from Cable’s back (And BEFORE the referee tells him to, no less), Whitey checks to see if he’s bleeding ... the power behind Cable’s shots enough to warrant further ... albeit BRIEF ... investigation. The crowd booing Whitey, he shakes his head and shrugs before taking the offensive right back to Johnathan Cable. Laying in the boots as Cable stands, he wrenches in a headlock to prevent full standing position ... keeping the pressure on Cable instead of allowing the fight to be brought to him fairly. Why get an advantage if you’re going to lose it? Whitey smiles as he grinds in on Cable ... but Cable reacts with a show of power and forces him into the nearest cornerpost chest first. Whitey clutching at his sternum, he backs into Cable and is caught in a waistlock. A heave and Whitey is taken up, up, UP ....

... only to be brought down, down, dowwwwwn unceremoniously on his knee in a borderline illegal Inverted Atomic Drop.

Whitey hopping and bouncing in pain, Cable mimics him behind his back and when he turns around .... CLOTHESLINE. Whtiey is dropped viciously to the mat and Cable takes the opportunity to go for the cover.

1 ...

2 ...

... Whitey throws a shoulder up at two. Whitey has escaped .... but Cable isn’t annoyed. He isn’t even fazed. He’s not looking past the International Champion, and that might be the smartest thing he could have possibly done. As Whitey staggers to his feet (Cable actually laughs and calls him a ‘true drunkard’), he turns into several more pot-shots from Cable. However, this time ... Whitey fires back. Faster and faster. The speed created is unreal and Whitey in his frustration has rattled the much larger Johnathan Cable and for an exclamation point ... drops him with a SUPER high-angled dropkick.

The elevation is unreal and the impact jarring as Cable is pushed nearly halfway across the ring. Whitey hopping to his feet, he spits at the fallen Cable and draws his hand across his mouth to wipe the rest away. He’s talking a mile a minute at the fallen New Breed member. Not much is made out, but it’s very clear he means and believes every last WORD of it.

As he drags Cable to his feet, Whitey is surprised to find Cable hooking his waist and lifting him ... taking a running start and planting him to the mat. Cue more fist-fighting. Cable and Whitey are showing more and more bad blood as the match wears on: Whitey because Cable dared to run his mouth and Cable because Whitey decided to run HIS mouth. Usually, that’s all it REALLY takes right?

Cable and Whitey slowly but surely disentangling from each other, Whitey and Cable ALREADY both look as though they’ve been through a warzone. Cable rushes Whitey and wraps his hands around Whitey’s throat, forcing him back into the corner. Pushing with all his might for extra leverage, Whitey is on the verge of passing out when all of a sudden ... STOMP! Whitey brings his foot down onto Johnathan Cable’s with enough force to be felt through the boots. Cable still holding on, Whitey reaches up and IGNORES the hands around his throat ... clapping his hands to Johnathan’s ears.

The clap throwing off Cable’s sense of balance, he staggers back in a half-limp and Whitey takes off like a bat out of hell ... dropping Cable with a huge spear! Cable hitting the mat with unreal velocity, Whitey leans back on his knees ... taking several deep breaths before moving to make the cover. Those few seconds of precious, precious air may cost Whitey in the long run ...

1 ...

2 ...

...thr-NO! Cable kicks out, and in doing so aggravates the just-impacted rib area. Whitey brushes his hair out of his eyes and moves to his feet slowly. Cable is on his way as well, but not nearly as fast or without effort as Whitey. Both men finally returning to their feet, Whitey grabs Cable and whips him into the nearby cornerpost. Cable lands with a resounding thud and Whitey barrels towards him. A quick elbow and Whitey’s momentum has been considerably slowed. A second elbow and Whitey has backed up a step or two. A third ... and Cable misses, thanks to Whitey staggering back.

Whitey grabbing the backward extended arm, he uses his other hand to smash Cable’s face into the turnbuckle multiple times ... that one free arm not enough to shield his cranium from the high-impact shots. Once Cable is dazed, Whitey huffs and puffs and ... hoists this “little masked piggy’s”, (HIS words exactly) dazed body up onto the top turnbuckle. The weight disadvantage enough to leave Whitey searching for tactics, the turnbuckle offers a unique chance and one he’s not about to pass up.

Hooking Cable’s arms out to the side, he steps out from the corner and .... BAM! Top Rope Assisted Backtoss Piledriver! Cable is out in front of Whitey and Whitey knows it. He stands and looks out to the crowd ... before crumpling onto Cable’s limp body with his own. The referee is in perfect position and slides in to make the count.

1 ...

2 ...

.... 3!

DING DING DING

The bell sounds out and the referee raises Whitey Ford’s hand as the winner of the contest!

Winner: Whitey Ford

As the referee raises his hand, Whitey snatches it away violently and begins to lay the boots into Johnathan Cable’s limp body. Cable beginning to stir, it’s not enough to do him ANY sort of good and Whitey takes full advantage of this by stomping and pounding and yelling profanity-laced insults at his fallen opponent. The after match beatdow doesn’t happen for TOO very long because ....

... here comes Sebastian St. Paul!

The crowd roars its’ approval as St. Paul hits the ring! The Stunning One and The Asshole trading shots in the middle of the ring, it isn’t long before the fresher of the two gets the upperhand on the more worn-down of the pair ... Whitey being warded off by the second member of the New Breed. Cable isn’t back to his feet, but it’s more than enough as he wraps his massive arms around Whitey’s ankles ... holding him to one spot as St. Paul tees off on the wounded Whitey. It looks as though The New Breed will regain some dignity after the disparaging remarks of the past little while on the part of Whitey Ford ...

... that is, until Michael Wryght ... St. Paul’s opponent for the evening ... hits the ring!

Going right after St. Paul, Showtime is on fire as Whitey and Cable are brawling once again! Security and uniformed officers hitting the ringside area, the chaos is slowly starting to be contained as we get the referee down for the next match! There’s not even any time for the introductions as this powder keg’s fuse has already been lit! Melina making it down to the ring as Whitey Ford and Johnathan Cable are escorted from the ringside area ... she signals for the bell ...

Match Eight

Non-Title Singles Match

‘Mr. Showtime’ Michael Wryght (World Champion) vs. Sebastian St. Paul (Tag Team Champion)

Referee: Melina Cruz

DING DING DING!

... and this match is OFFICIALLY underway!

The fist fight suddenly being halted by a collar and elbow tie up initiated by Showtime, it’s obvious St. Paul was HOPING he’d throw heavy leather with him. The two men jockey for position until Sebastian St. Paul powers Wryght down to the mat! The crowd pops at this, Showtime looking up from the mat with a stunned look on his face. STUNNING. SSP nods his head and points at Showtime, who in turn complains to the ref that there was hair-pulling. SSP just laughs it off as Showtime returns to his feet ... a little more annoyed than when he was there last.

The two lock up again and ... much in the same manner as before, SSP powers Showtime to the mat. This time, however, Showtime jumps quickly to his feet and rushes St. Paul only to several rapid fire right hands finished with a huge left haymaker that leaves Showtime on the mat, clutching at his jaw and seeming to be in shock at St. Paul’s singles prowess. Perhaps Showtime may wish to rethink his expectations of one-half of the Tag Team Champions.

Showtime and St. Paul now face to face, Showtime absolutely ENRAGED at St. Paul’s seeming indifference to who he is. The two verbally spar for a few minutes before Showtime throws a punch. St. Paul blocks and responds with one of his own. A second. A third. The Tag Champ forces the World Champ back against the ropes and whips him across the ring. A quick back elbow and a pinfall attempt leads to a quick one count.

St. Paul hops up and stalks his prey, the slowly rising Showtime. As Showtime hits his feet, St. Paul is there and ... catches a thumb to the eye for his dilligence. Early bird gets poked in the eyes. As St. Paul staggers back temporarily blinded, Wryght remains in the center of the ring to catch his breath. Showtime watching St. Paul out of the corners of his eyes, he waits until the perfect moment to strike ...

... there it is! Spinning European Uppercut. Rocking the tag champ, Showtime nails a second European Uppercut that drives SSP back into the corner. Several knife-edged chops and St. Paul is reeling. Acting as if he’s going to whip St. Paul across the ring, he changes direction at the very last second and sends St. Paul flying out of the ring and to the floor below.

Showtime nimbly following St. Paul to the floor, he waits for SSP to expend his own energy to get to his feet before grabbing hold of his wrist ... arm wringer ... BAM! Shuffle side kick that drops SSP back to the mat. The referee counting steadily along as the two remain outside, Showtime uses his ring general instincts and rolls back into the ring only to roll right back out to continue the assault. Stupid referee and his stupid rules.

Pft.

Showtime returning his attention to SSP, he drags him to his feet and whips him towards the guard rail. However, mid whip, SSP reverses and instead of giving Showtime that much room to come up with a way to avoid the impact, switches things up and throws Showtime right at the ringside steps. The sudden change leaves Showtime no chance to react and thusly .... careens dangerously knees-first into the steel steps.

Showtime flipping over the steel steps, the crowd cheers with great volume as Showtime crashes and burns on the opposite side right in front of them. St. Paul dodging a bullet on that particular exchange, he follows Showtime’s example and rolls into the ring to avoid the count ... and promptly exits on the side where Showtime is struggling to make it to his feet.

Grabbing Showtime by the head, he slams his head onto the apron before rolling him into the ring properly. Showtime being shown the error of his judging ways, St. Paul grabs hold of one of the World Champ’s legs and holds it aloft ... semi-playing to the crowd who is rabid with anticipation at seeing Showtime getting his come-uppance. St. Paul begins to spin as if to hook a figure-four leg lock but instead is reversed and pulled down into a small package!

1 ...

2 ...

... no!

St. Paul breaks free from the hold at two. Showtime moving to create distance between the two, St. Paul moves to close said distance and catches Showtime as he reaches the bottom rope. Showtime holding onto the rope precariously, St. Paul yanks with all of his might and breaks Showtime’s grip on the rope. Or does he? The force not enough to separate Showtime and the rope, the sudden tautness brings St. Paul back into the ropes ... draping his neck across the top rope. Sliding under the ropes, Showtime reaches up and pulls St. Paul’s head down ... throttling the so-far-impressive tag specialist with impudence.

Waiting until the referee calls for the break at five, Showtime lets SSP go ... SSP staggering and falling back into the ring as Showtime gingerly moves to his feet. It’s obvious the earlier collision with the ringside steps did some damage, but the extent of which has yet to be revealed. Showtime kicking his legs out a few times, hoping to stimulate and regain the circulation ... he moves to St. Paul who is still down on the mat. Avoiding his signature variety of leg locks thanks to his own current disadvantage (God help him if his leglocks are reversed NOW), Showtime drops and begins rubbing and grinding a forearm across the face of St. Paul

A brutal assault on the downed tag team champion, Showtime breaks it at five ... only to go right back to it. The referee doesn’t even bother with the count this time, he simply forces Showtime off of St. Paul and STERNLY admonishes him ... even going so far as to physically reprimand Showtime with a finger to the chest and the universal symbol for ‘thrown out’. Showtime backs down and waits for the referee to back off before returning to the match.

Showtime going back to work St. Paul over, he finds that St. Paul is nowhere to be found. Except from above. NO ONE expects a Diving Double Axe Handle Smash! St. Paul connects and drops Showtime to a knee with the strike and follows up with a spinning back fist that lays the World Champion out on the mat. Dropping to the mat, St. Paul counts along with the referee.

1 ...

2 ...

3-NO! Showtime kicks out at the last moment, slipping out from under St. Paul and searching for a nearby shelter. St. Paul a bit thrown by Showtime’s escape, he checks with the ref for a few seconds as to whether it was a two or a three; he was counting three. The ref disagrees and the match continues. The champion crawls for the corner but doesn’t make it that far as St. Paul stops him well short of his goal. Dragging him back to the center of the ring, this time he will not be denied as he spins around one of the injured legs and locks in the Figure Four!

The Slammer!

... although there is no slamming involved. Huh.

Showtime writhing in agony, he’s dragging St. Paul’s almost-dead-weight body as he reaches and stretches for the ropes ... the chance to escape the hold. There’s always submission, but THAT escape was NEVER a considered option. He reaches up and grabs at St. Paul’s hair and manages to catch a chunk before peppering him with a huge right hand. A second right hand and St. Paul’s hold has loosened enough for Showtime to escape. But does he crawl away? No. Showtime simply pulls himself onto St. Paul and lays into him with punches. The two are bare-knuckle brawling back and forth but Showtime is the one fighting like a wounded animal and St. Paul finds himself prone and struggling to catch his bearings.

As Showtime drags himself to his feet with assistance from the ropes, he waits for St. Paul to stand and once he does ... Showtime is ready. St. Paul staggers in a circle and as he comes face to face with his opponent, is drilled with a boot to the gut. Showtime turning St. Paul around, he hooks the arm and head for a Reverse DDT. Kicking a leg back, he brings it back to add the momentum as he twists and drops St. Paul with THE SWEETNESS ... St. Paul’s body sickeningly not stopping with his head and neck.

Showtime forcing St. Paul onto his back, he drops an arm over the chest of St. Paul ...

1 ...

2 ...

.... 3!

... and the result is academic.

Winner: Michael Wryght

We get Showtime standing in the ring, celebrating his victory and standing tall over Sebastian St. Paul as we are treated to a shot of Skylar Marshall ... watching the match on a television monitor in his office ... smiling and stroking his goatee as we go to our last commercial break of the evening!

[Murdoc]

Nail in the Coffin

The arena lights dim down to a gentle glow and the sound of pouring rain fills the arena to the brim as an orange fog begins to cover the entrance way. Hardly containing themselves already, the fans start to rise to their feet as a sudden bright flash of orange lights flood the crowd before a deafening crash of thunder rattles the foundation and leaves the arena in darkness. The pre-chorus rift to "Crash" by Decyfer Down instigates a small riot amongst those in attendance as orange flashes, like lightning, illuminate the way for the Force of Nature, and Justin Michaels appears through the curtain and onto the stage, followed by his wife, the lovely Lindsay Michaels.

"CRASH! YOU'RE GOING DOWN! WITHOUT A SOUND!"

Justin plays to the cheers of the fans from atop the ramp, and marches back and forth while interacting with those in attendance. He nods his head and points towards the fans recognizing all the support they provide before turning his attention back to the ring, and starts to make his way towards the squared circle.

"THEN I'LL PASS YOU UP, BEFORE I EXPLODE! BREAKING IN TWO! I'LL SEE IT THROUGH!"

Having made it to ringside with his lovely wife at his side, Stormm patrols around to the opposite side of the ring and gives a mocking salute towards Al Laiman, the man who for years has mocked the "misspelling" of Justin's nickname. Justin hops up onto the apron, and assists his wife up and through the ropes before motioning to the crowd once more.

"YOU WON'T KEEP ME DOWN WHEN I CRASH THROUGH YOU!"

Justin follows Lindsay through the ropes and immediately scales the nearest turnbuckle to raise his hands into the air for all to see. The flash bulbs surge throughout the arena as the orange lights brighten back to the venue's usual lighting. Justin repeats his actions and poses on the turnbuckle in the opposite corner before hopping down from the corner and his music fades out, but the overwhelming applause does not as he walks towards the back of the ring and holds his hand out asking for a microphone rather than standing ready for his opponent.

Jerry Andrews: It looks like Justin is going to address the PCW faithful for the first time since he stepped back into the Pure Class Arena, would you listen to this crowd Al!

Al Laiman: Oh, you mean he's not going to sing karaoke?

The cheers from those in attendance don't die down for some time as Stormm paces back and forth inside of the ring, waiting for the noise levels to subside. Lindsay even joins in on the action by giving her husband a round of applause to show her support. The cheers die off enough for Justin to finally speak, and he stops dead in the center of the ring and looks out into the crowd.

Justin Michaels: There used to be a time when I could step into this ring and be proud to say I wrestle for Pure Class Wrestling. Hell, that was the same time any of you sitting out there could say you were really excited about what was happening inside this very ring. For the last year though...

Justin pauses and shakes his head as he motions for something else to be tossed to him from ringside, and on cue, in comes a flying green letterman's jacket. The once cheers for the Force of Nature have turned to echoing boos.

Al Laiman: Yes, Jerry, it's a Marshall's Law jacket, get over it.

Justin Michaels: But for the last year this so called group of "law makers" have been running around here like they own the place at the direction of one Skylar Marshall.

The boos grow even louder.

Justin Michaels: I came back for one reason, and one reason only... And that was to do whatever I could to put an end to the plague that IS Skylar Marshall.

Jerry Andrews: Stormm ALMOST got his hands on Skylar back at Living a Legacy before the captain of Marshall's Law intervened.

Justin Michaels: Quite frankly, as far as Marshall's Law is concerned, it's only a matter of time before they all see what it was that I saw two years ago while I was under Skylar's thumb, make a smart decision, and get the Hell out of Dodge. But that doesn't really stop that snake from finding new minds to corrupt, to do his bidding, and to keep people like me from kicking his ass!

A huge pop from the crowd comes at the thought of seeing Skylar get his just desserts. A smile comes across Stormm's face and he starts to pace again as Lindsay plays to the crowd’s reaction.

Jerry Andrews: The faithful seem to like the idea of Skylar Marshall taking a beating at the hands of Justin "Stormm" Micheals; what do you think Al?

Al Laiman: Or maybe they enjoy the thought of Stormm losing his job for attacking his boss.

Justin Michaels: It's come to my attention, however, that Skylar really finds his way into the World title picture a lot more than you might think, and really, the demise for that scumbag is going to be taking his shiny new toy away from him!

The crowd goes nuts as Stormm almost seems to be tossing his name into the World title picture.

Jerry Andrews: You heard it here first, folks! Stormm seems to be toying with the notion of becoming the next World Champion!

Justin Michaels: I'll be the last one to tell you that I came back specifically for this moment, and I'm not suggesting that I win the title because it's all I ever cared about, I'm suggesting I win the title to hammer, pound, punch, kick, head butt, or even throw the kitchen sink at the last nail in Marshall's Law's coffin! Unlike one of our current Co-Champions, I really AM doing this for all of you, and most definitely not for myself!

As the crowd's reaction continues to blow the roof off of the Pure Class Arena, Lindsay exits the ring as she knows the start of the main even is nearing, and Stormm finishes up his first address of the PCW faithful since his return earlier this year as he finally tosses the Marshall's Law jacket to the arena floor.

Justin Michaels: I've beaten both co-holders of the World title once since Living a Legacy, perhaps both of them AGAIN by the end of the evening ... and all those two have done since then is moan and whine about a mistake they never should have made in the first place; aligning with Skylar Marshall. So, Skylar, unless you're afraid I'll actually take the title away from them, what do you say?

Justin drops the microphone to the canvas and tears off his "Crash" t-shirt as he waits for Justin Kaard to make his entrance for the main event.

Jerry Andrews: Stormm has just suggested this main event become a two-out-of-three-falls match JUST so he can beat BOTH Michael Wryght and Justin Kaard ... and I can't wait to hear what Skylar has to say in response!

Al Laiman: You've got one thing right; the main event did just get a lot more interesting!

The lights flash in time with the intro to "Attack" as Justin Kaard takes the stage. Bouncing on the balls of his feet, Justin loosens up before the match. With slow determination he walks to the ring, ignoring the few cheers and heavy jeers of the audience. Coming to the ring he moves to the side and takes a running start before sliding across the apron on one knee. He grabs the ropes before hitting the turnbuckle and vaults over the ropes. Once in the ring, Kaard runs to the far turnbuckle and leaps to the second rope. He raises his arms, crossing them at the wrists before jumping from the turnbuckle.

With the tension piled on thick after what took place between these two at Trauma 137, it seems everyone in attendance at Pure Class Arena are on their feet. Never taking his eyes off Justin Kaard, Stormm plays to the crowd to incite them further. He claps his hands and motions for Justin Kaard to 'bring it.'

Main Event

Non-Title Singles Match

Justin ‘Stormm’ Michaels vs. Justin ‘The Adrenaline King’ Kaard (World Champion)

Referee: Eddie Lane

DING DING DING!

Not one to back down, Kaard obliges by leading with a low dropkick to Stormm's left leg, its past injuries well documented. Stormm drops down, Kaard pops up quickly, and the Adrenaline King takes a run at the ropes. On the rebound Stormm manages to drop prone, forcing Justin Kaard to run overtop and hit the ropes opposite. Stormm rises halfway on the next return, and Kaard vaults overhead in artistic fashion. He hits the ropes a third time and Stormm capitalizes, taking him over with a hip toss and stopping his momentum cold.

Having downed Justin Kaard, Stormm keeps him there with an armlock before seizing the other arm of Justin Kaard as well. Stormm drives his knee deep into Kaard's back, pulling his arms behind him for leverage. Kaard rocks to the left and right, resisting, which prompts Stormm to move in closer for a full nelson, using his position to pull them both to their feet. Shooting his foot backward with disregard, Kaard attempts an 'accidental' low blow which Stormm blocks. Twisting Kaard around from the nelson, Justin Michaels hooks his head and plants him with a DDT. A quick cover gives a one count, but nothing more.

Again Stormm controls by seizing the arms, holding tight to keep Kaard in close. Kaard wheels around and sprawls, trying to keep Justin Michaels off his back, aware that the Force of Nature is comfortable working from that position. In response Stormm hooks both arms in a double underhook, lifting the Adrenaline King off the mat in an impressive show of strength. Aiming for a double underhook suplex, Kaard manages to free his arms and shift his weight at the top. With Kaard seated on Stormm's shoulders now, Justin Michaels looks to powerbomb him to the mat. Again Kaard shifts his weight and tosses Stormm across the ring with a hurricanrana!

Stormm takes the impact and rolls through to a kneeled position, turning to find Justin Kaard waiting. This time, it's Kaard who motions for his opponent to 'bring it.' Stormm raises his hands to a fighting stance, wading in toward Kaard slowly, almost begging Kaard to box him. Kaard responds by raising his fists as well, shadowboxing the approaching Force of Nature. Stormm takes the bait, looking to lead with a jab. Step-up enziguri by Justin Kaard! He covers Stormm quickly, pointing to his head to demonstrate that Stormm played right into his hands. He ought to have paid more attention to his opponent, though, as Stormm easily kicks out at one.

Kaard backs off, allowing Stormm to regain his feet, and again takes up a fighter's stance. This time they collide, Kaard leading with kicks and Stormm advancing with punches when he sees an opening. Kaard's kicks are aimed low, at the knees and thighs of Justin Michaels. Stormm's training over the years lets him block by instinct, but the blows still deal damage. Still advancing and looking to ground or grapple the Adrenaline King, Stormm manages to catch an errant kick. Kaard balances precariously on one leg, and it looks as though Stormm is winding up a dragon screw. Before he can, however, Kaard steps over and breaks free with a mule kick! Stormm stumbles backward, bracing on the ropes and rebounding slowly toward the center of the ring. Forward rolling through his mule kick, Kaard turns and hits the ropes, bouncing back and connecting with a shining wizard! Stormm's down, and again Kaard covers.

1...

...

2...

Kickout by Justin Michaels! Kaard scrambles up, again using his speed to keep Stormm out of sorts. A quick comeback off the ropes once more, leg lariat by Justin Kaard!

No!

Stormm ducks it, leaving Kaard to an awkward landing. He regains his balance just in time to catch a big right hand from Justin Michaels that sends sparks to his eyeballs. Stormm continues his assault, brawling Kaard into complacency with gut shots, hooks, and a heavy haymaker. With Kaard stunned for the moment, Michaels hooks him up for a snap suplex. Floatover and a pin by Stormm.

1...

...

Shoulder up before two. Back to basics for Justin Michaels, as he hauls Kaard up by an arm and twists into an arm-wringer. A quick yank for good measure, and then he shifts position into a hammerlock. Kaard shoots an elbow that breaks the hold and he charges at the ropes, looking to get back that forward momentum that is his namesake. Stormm has him scouted... drop toe hold and Justin Kaard eats canvas. Stormm pounces on Kaard's back, maneuvering around into a north-south and a facelock. Smothering Kaard now, Kaard tries to roll away but Michaels rolls with him, his facelock still tight. Before Kaard can try anything else Stormm spins on Kaard's dime into a side headlock. Kaard battles back and works up to his feet, firing a couple of quick elbows to Stormm's midsection. Anticipating a third elbow, Stormm pushes Kaard outward and then hauls him back in, holding him tight in a waistlock.

German Suplex by Stormm!

1...

...

2...

...

Kickout by Kaard!

Refusing to slow down, Stormm hauls Kaard up, keeping him at bay with a few stiff shots to the skull. Almost ferally, he hooks Justin Kaard in a suplex position. As he draws one of Kaard's legs up the Faithful erupt, anticipating the Force of Nature finishing maneuver. He gets Kaard up into the cradle suplex, holding for a moment...

Kaard brings his free knee down, catching Stormm square in the face! Stormm doubles over and drops Justin Kaard, clutching at his nose. A quick gut kick for good measure, Kaard running at the ropes... Overdrive!! The leg drop bulldog drops Stormm face first into the canvas! Kaard pins!

1...

...

2...

...

...

...

Stormm gets his shoulder up at the last second!! Kaard can't believe it, slapping his hands together three times to tell the man once known as 'Fast Count' to, well, count faster, damnit! Eddie Lane is assuring Justin Kaard it was a fair count, but Kaard gets caught up in the moment and is fully in Eddie Lane's face. Eddie Lane's telling him to back off, but Justin Kaard is yelling obscenities, pointing around at Lord knows what, clapping his hands some more



Stormm from behind! The distraction a chance for recovery, Stormm's up and grabs Kaard from behind, arm around the face and leaning Justin Kaard backward. Kaard's helpless as Stormm hoists him by his shorts, planting him hard with the Hangcloud DDT!! Lateral press!

1...

...

2...

...

...

And this time it's Justin Kaard who kicks out with miliseconds to spare! The effort an apparent last ditch, Kaard's hardly moving while Stormm makes his way to a knee. He's sizing up Justin Kaard, picking him up now, stationing behind him. He captures Kaard in a half-nelson, planning to tap him out with the Eye of the Stormm! He's reaching around Kaard's face to seize his nelsoned arm and complete the hold. Kaard grabs Stormm by his left wrist with his own left hand, fully aware that if Stormm completes the hold in the center of the ring he'll have nowhere to go. Stormm looks as though he's going to break free...

Justin Kaard does all he can imagine, shooting forward and running up the ropes like steps. Kaard floats over, drawing his knees up almost to his own face. Adrenaline Rush!! Kaard's knees drive hard into the back of Stormm's head!

Kaard covers!

1...

...

2...

...

...

...

3!!!

Winner: Justin Kaard via Pinfall

Rather than 'Attack,' it's 'The System' by Black Pacific that plays as the bell rings and Kaard is named the victor. Skylar Marshall appears at the top of the ramp and begins strolling down to the ring with a microphone clutched tight in his fingers. Eddie Lane hands Justin Kaard his PCW World Championship as Kaard looks to Marshall, coming to congratulate him. And then some.

Stormm begins to roll out of the ring toward Lindsay Michaels, but Kaard cuts him off and plants a few boots to direct him back toward the center of the ring. Lindsay's yelling at him but he pays her no mind; his focus is on Justin Michaels and Skylar Marshall. Marshall speaks into the microphone as he reaches the steps.

Skylar Marshall: Keep him right there!

Kaard obliges and plants another couple of boots into Stormm's gut, and one to his head for good measure. Eddie Lane's trying to keep him under control but he shoves Lane away, who then exits the ring for his own safety.

Skylar Marshall: Take that title, Justin, and hit him!

Justin Kaard doesn't shy away, coaxing Stormm to get up. Stormm reaches a knee and Kaard drives the World Title right between his eyes. Only now does Stormm roll out of the ring where Lindsay is left to deal with the heap that is her husband.

Skylar Marshall is in the ring now, and he raises Justin Kaard's arm with the World Title.

Skylar Marshall: Ladies and gentlemen... your PCW World Champion!

The Faithful boo, and spit, and jeer, shouting obscenities at the two in the ring. They've managed to taint what was otherwise an amazing match-up. But that, of course, is the Way of the Law.

Skylar Marshall: Why? Why boo? You're looking at the youngest, and quite possibly the greatest, World Champion Pure Class Wrestling has ever seen...

At this there's a mixed reaction from the Faithful as Mr. Showtime and Whitey Ford appear at the top of the ramp, Showtime holding a microphone in one hand and HIS World Championship high in the other. Whitey Ford is dragging the International Championship behind him in a loose grip, flipping Marshall and Kaard the bird with his free hand.

Michael Wryght: You're forgetting someone, Skylar...

Skylar Marshall whirls in place, staring white-hot hatred at Wryght and Ford. Kaard himself is staring down Michael Wryght, and his glare is even less inviting. Always composed, Skylar turns his attention from the Faithful to the (former?) members of Marshall's Law.

Skylar Marshall: No, Michael, you're the one who has forgotten. And you, Whitey. You want to leave Marshall's Law? You're tired of the way you've been treated? Do I understand that right?

Whitey Ford reaches for the microphone in Showtime's hand, but Showtime declines. Instead, he crosses his arms in front of him, as though beckoning for Skylar to spin his web of lies.

Skylar Marshall: Where would you be without me, Michael? Where would you be without me, Whitey? In case you've forgotten, let me jog your memory. You, Michael, are a second rate actor and for most of your career ... a second tier superstar. I gave you the means to elevate yourself beyond your station in this company and now that I've decided to help another DESERVING competitor do the same, you act like your feelings are hurt. You won’t take partial blame for the issues that seem to have arisen in Marshall’s Law, how about FULL BLAME? Your primadonna ego has caused this, Wryght!

And you, Whitey... you won that Title you now hold on your own. But in case you've forgotten, without me, Ace Anderson would already hold it. You were a second away from losing it, and who rang the bell? Who kept it around your waist?

I DID!

Everything I've done, everything I do, was and will be with the Law and the future of this company in mind. So I'll tell you what I'm going to do. I'll forgive you. In my infinite benevolence I'll forgive, and I'll forget in turn. I'll forget your disrespect and your disregard for what I've done for you, and we can continue on at the summit of Pure Class Wrestling. Or we can go our separate ways and you can find out just how bad it is to be on the wrong side of the Law!

The crowd cheers at the thought of these two men splitting from the unpopular faction and they let it be known.

Skylar's fuming now, his face is bright red, and Kaard's trying to tell him to keep his composure. Marshall's ignoring him, however. And they've also been ignoring another...

Justin Michaels is back to form on the outside of the ring, and he's digging under the apron for... something. He emerges with a Louisville Slugger! The Faithful go wild and the two in the ring have no idea why. The realization comes too late as Stormm slides into the ring and blasts Kaard halfway to Kansas City with a home run swing! Indeed he hits Kaard right out of the ring, as he recoils from the impact and flies through the second rope, landing in a pile on the ringside floor.

Skylar drops the mic and turns to high-tail it, but Stormm grabs him by the collar and pulls him in close. He speaks words too quiet to hear, but the look on Skylar's face tells all: the Faithful are about to see back-to-back jacks! Stormm's toying with his prey now, hauling Skylar down to his knees and forcing him to beg for mercy. Skylar looks to his last line of defense: Showtime and Ford standing at the top of the ramp. In a symbolic moment they turn their backs on the Law, spinning defiant and disappearing behind the curtain. Skylar's left in the ring ... alone and helpless ... at the mercy of a man who hates him more than any other.

Pure Class Arena security fly down the ramp in Whitey and Showtime's stead, but as they reach the ring Stormm calls them off, threatening to knock Skylar's head off if they take one more step. He's playing it up, taking a step back and pretending to line up his swing. Skylar sees a chance to flee but Stormm's too quick, grabbing him by the tie and yanking hard to choke him and keep him in place.

Justin Kaard's up at ringside, ready to attack Stormm from behind. But Lindsay Michaels jumps on his back! She's choking him out but he's able to shake her free, grabbing her forceably and holding her hostage. Stormm watches this transpire and is about to let Skylar walk free for the sake of his wife, but Lindsay shouts at him to take his revenge!

He turns back to Skylar, which forces Kaard to do the only thing he can think of. He spins Lindsay Michaels around and attacks her mouth with an unwelcomed tongue-heavy kiss! Lindsay pulls away and spits in his eye; in response, Kaard pushes her to the floor!

This enrages Justin Michaels who forgoes his revenge entirely to get at Justin Kaard, stepping quickly through the ropes with his Slugger still in hand. Kaard beelines past security toward the back and Stormm gives chase, fighting tooth and nail to get beyond them and aim another bat-shot at Justin Kaard. With Stormm subdued by security, Skylar Marshall is left in the ring laughing at Stormm's misfortune and his narrow escape from 33 ounces of maple.

Skylar Marshall: That’s it, Stormm! THAT’S IT! You just made your final mistake. You want to put your dirty hands on me?! You’re going to regret that. And do you know WHY you’re going to regret that? At the pay-per-view, we all KNOW it’s going to be you versus Justin Kaard and Michael Wryght for the World Championship. And I’ll even grant you the two-out-of-three falls stipulation ... but to do that, I’m adding my OWN twist. With there being two halves of a whole belt at the moment ... well, let’s just say to win, one has to COLLECT BOTH HALVES by pinfall or submission!

The crowd boos at this, Stormm ignoring Skylar almost COMPLETELY as he tries to make his way through the security who are already dragging him towards the back of the arena at a snail’s pace to allow all parties involved to get distanced. What an explosive way to end the final show before Game Over 3! Call your local cable provider and pre-order it today!

*CLICK*

<sub>Arica Lewitt v. Sterling Wernger ends via double countout
Ace Anderson & Q def. The Flying Freebooters; Q pins High Tide
Gabriel Cross def. Tyrone Smith 
Kelli Starr def. Andy D
Grimm def. Rick Majors
Tyler Scott def 3 Hobos
Whitey Ford def. Johnathan Cable
Michael Wryght def. Sebastian St. Paul
Justin Kaard def. Justin Michaels

Good work everyone!  PPV card is forthcoming, the build is at a fever pitch; what happens NEXT?!  Thanks go to everyone who RPed, sent segments ... and special thanks to Kris, Drew, Mel, Rick and Dan for all their help writing this week.  Let's give Game Over 3 the proper turnout it deserves.   8-)</sub>